Breathe Again: Odds and Ends
by Renea
Summary: Stuff that didn't quite make it into the story. A bunch of little one shots, and such. n.n
1. Faux pas

Ok, please forgive the spacing of this Author's note. For some reason, it's being all weird.

Ok! So, Basically, this is all the random little ideas I had for things that relate to, or were alluded to during my fic "Breathe Again", and it's potential sequel. that really didn't belong anywhere in the story. Um... basically a bunch of random one shots xD I'll provide the following information before each: Title, Genre (please forgive me if these are a little off xDD And If it's a crack fic, I'll warn you here.), Warnings (I was going to say "rating" but I'm bad at deciding those, and I figured this would be more specific), Canon (Ok xDD it's OC fanfiction, so it's IMMEDIATELY not cannon to the Naruto universe. What I mean is like, if it's canon to the fic, or jsut something random), Fic spoilers (some of these take place During, or After the fic and the potential sequel, and would definitely reveal alot about the plot. So like, yeah xDD) Setting: ( The time: Pre series, Series, Filler time, Timeskip time, or Shippuden, and the place if there's a specific one), and a Summary.

So... yeah! Some of these may mention characters that belong to my friend Jay, Nobukane, and Rin. So credit for their characters goes to them n.n

Disclaimer: Naruto Belongs to Kishimoto Masashi

Title: Faux Pas

Genre: Family/Drama

Warnings: Child Abuse

Canon: Yes

Fic Spoilers: Yes

Setting: Pre series (19 years), Kirigakure no Sato

Summary: Because as long as she was living under Ume Gyouten's roof, there were certain things that **would no**t be tolerated...

* * *

She'd been in pain before, certainly.

She'd fallen, dropped things, had things dropped on her... But nothing like _**this. **_The biting, matter of fact sound that had accompanied the strike was still ringing clearly in the air, reverberating off the small cabin's walls. The six year old stumbled backwards, with a high pitched sheik, and would have fallen, were it not for her clumsy collision with the nearest wall.

She hadn't even seen him move.

The room's other occupant had drawn himself back up to his full height, and turned to look away again. His face was hidden, both by his position, and snowy white hair; but that made no difference. She'd watched him long enough to imagine his expression; eyes closed behind his thin square-lensed glasses, visage set in a deadly calm.

"Don't you _**ever**_ use that word again."

That hiss was the closes to anger she'd ever really heard from him. The closest to anything, really, and her eyes begin to sting. He was still present, so Kotone choked the tears back, gagged whimpers that were probably more pathetic than cries breaking forth. Just hearing her own pitiful bawling was shameful enough to bring tears, and the crying becomes inevitable. She was in shock, she was in pain, she was...A small, bumbling hand covers her face, and comes away covered in blood, from her nose, and mouth. She _**was**_ bleeding.

And worst of all, she had disappointed her father again.

"Go clean yourself up."

The dumbstruck moment of hesitation brought forth more insistent sobs, as she scrambled to obey the order, when it finally sunk in. She corrected the words she'd been about to blurt in apology, and stayed silent as she raced to the small bathroom down the hall.

Don't talk, just do.

She noted the door locking behind herself as she shut it, throwing herself in a weeping, bleeding heap between the counter, and bathtub, letting the cries and wails run themselves out where no one would hear. Where she couldn't disgrace him.

It was just another one of her stupid little mistakes, and as her father had taught her, a ninja couldn't afford those. She had let her guard down...

Winter was her favourite time of the year. It always had been. In the cold, and the storms, travel within the country, and especially those to outside of the country grew dangerous, and missions were less frequent. In the winter, her stays with Oji san, and Oba san grew few, and far between. The snow kept her father home, with her.

She supposed that's why she had been so happy, and at the same time, careless. Her father had picked her up, and she had followed gleefully along the path his steps broke through the snow, home. It was only as he shut the door behind himself, and started for a chair inside that she'd let the words slip, and had immediately felt his knuckles against the side of her face.

She really hadn't realized it was bad. She'd never say anything bad... She heard it all the time. A young couple that had entered Oji san and Oba san's shop to buy bread had been whispering those words between themselves incessantly. Even Oji san and Oba san said it, and often too.

She held her sleeve to her nose, waiting for the bleeding to stop as the sobs ebbed, and choked themselves into nothing. Slowly, shakily, the six year old pushed herself to her feet, taking hold of an overturned plastic milk carton that she used for a step, and dropped it before the sink.

Two steps brought her to face her reflection, and Kotone watched the tears well up again, as she took in exactly how ridiculous she looked: eyes red and puffy, blatant tear tracks staining her cheeks. The child forced them down, though, and began examining the damage.

Her right cheek was red, and stinging, and had begun to purple where the back of his hand had hit. The blood had dried, sticking strands of hair to her face, the metallic taste and smell overpowering. She sighed, and turned the tap, letting a trickle of cold water splash into the sink basin, and strained to reach the washcloth off to the side, the small girl finding her reach insufficient. She grabbed hold of a corner, though, and dragged it under the running water.

She spared a guilty glanced at her own bloodied reflection, stomach churning uneasily. Otou san had rules for a reason, even if she didn't understand them. That's how it was for shinobi; sometimes you got an order that didn't make much sense, but you did it anyway. That's what he'd taught her, at least, and she believed him wholeheartedly. She'd made mistakes before, yes, and she'd been punished, but this was different. She'd actually made him angry with her.

She began wiping the orange-red smears from her skin dismally. It hadn't seemed like such a big deal, but to upset him that way... What she did must have been terrible. The girl let out another despondent little whimper, head hanging low. She'd make it up to him. She'd be better, from now on, she'd make him proud of her.

He'd never been proud of her, and that came as no surprise. After all...

It was her fault Oka san was gone.

She _**would**_ make things up to him. She_** would**_ make him proud.

Kotone nodded resolutely, wiping the last of the dried blood from her face.

"_I love you, Otou san._" Had officially been removed from her vocabulary.

- - - - -

_Twenty years, and even the thought of that simple phrase makes the side of my face sting. Otou San had always had a way of making his lessons stick. Permanently. _

_Oh, I tried of course, once five years ago. I'll never be sure if it was the look in his eye, or the ache in my jaw that made me stop, and I regret letting either stand in my way. I'll regret it, profoundly, for the rest of my days._

_But now, it doesn't matter. The pain in my heart surpasses any in my cheek, and there's no way of telling one from the other. It just__** hurts.** And I'm sobbing. I'm actually **sobbing.** __And you know? I really couldn't care less._

_I was a coward for not telling you when it mattered. When it could have changed something. _

_But still, even if it's no good, I'll say it now. Because I should have said it before, every day, wether it fit with our accursed "honour" or not. Both of you, though the ways may be different. Because it's __**true,**__ and no amount of timeworn lessons, enforced by my father's ghost should be enough to stop me._ _But now I understand what it was he really taught me, probably without meaning to. _

_If you're going to love someone, you had better accept the agony that comes with it. _

_And I do. _

_But it's too late for that to mean anything, now, isn't it? _

Um... so yeah. I have alot more little Kotone things planned xD But I'm not sure about writing/posting them. So, if you're interested, please tell me n.n

Oooh! And prompts (is that the right word?) and suggestions and stuff are totally welcome!That'd be awesome.

So yeah! Thank you very much for reading, Please review, and have an awesome day n.n


	2. To drive a hard bargain

I have no idea where this came from xDD But given a certain mist Kunoichi's eventual means of income, and a certain other character's job, this was inevitable xDD There can only be so many people gathering information on the Akatsuki... 

Ok xDD about the terms used. It's always bothered me that everyone on Naruto, regardless of birthplace, and where they were raised, speaks the exact same language. I mean, for TV purposes, they have to, so everyone understands them, and because their voice depends entirely on the voice actor. But like, in an actual situation I think that at the very least, Mizu no kuni (since it's way away from everything elsexD) would probably have, at the very least, their own dialect. I'm SURE I'm misuising this, but I believe that to add jin to something would mean a person from there, right? Like, how Nihonjin means "a person from japan", "Tairiku jin" would, if I'm not entirely mistaken, mean "a person from the contintent" right? xD Like, referring to the landmass that makes up most of the naruto geogoraphy.would that be the right term? And "go" at the end, I've been told, means a language. Like nihongo meaning the japanese language, again, if I'm not totally off, "shimago" would mean the "island language" xDD I'm probably totally wrong, though. 

And about the Samehada thing... I have a theory on Kisame that I'm sure will soon be disproven by the manga xD

And once again, my author's note is longer than the one shot xD

Disclaimer: Naruto Belongs to Kishimoto Masashi

Title: To drive a hard bargain 

Genre: General

Warnings: Alcohol 

Canon: Yes

Fic Spoilers: Yes

Setting:During the series, a while after the chunin exams. 

Summary:Because to catch a criminal, sometimes another criminal'shelp was necessary... 

* * *

"Sir, It's four AM. If you're waiting for someone..." The young waitress who approached him in the dark, secluded back room of the otherwise unoccupied establishment, yawned, fatigue apparent in every movement of her arms, and eyes. She stretched, and the older man feigned innocence as his eyes trailed down to the low cut neckline of her shirt. He smiled in spite of himself. Ah yes, the Uniforms had always been his favourite part of this place. 

And he'd always been partial to blonds. 

"I really don't think they're coming." 

"What? Oh, right," He nodded, having completely forgotten what the young lady had been saying. "No, no. They'll definitely be here." His informant had never once shirked a meeting. More accurately, his informant had never turned down an opportunity to get _**paid. **_In that one regard, rogue ninja tended to be very dependable. 

Desperation and reliability went hand and hand. 

As if on cue, the bell by the door rang gently, as the creak of wood and squeaked hinges denoted a customer more blatantly. The disapproving huff, and sound of the stuck door being kicked back into place assured him of the stranger's identity. The lack of audible footsteps confirmed it.

Only mist ninja walked like that _**all **_the time.

"Oi." The voice- A woman's undoubtably- was coming from behind the booth at which he'd seated himself, and the waitress took an uneasy step back, and in a moment, he could see why. The newcomer was a full head taller than the blond, and the hand resting along the edge of the thick vinyl seats sported sharp, almost clawed nails. Most imposing, however, was the oversized saw attached by a strip of coth to her back, that she seemed mindful of while directing herself to the seat opposite his. 

He nodded slowly at the weapon, and she returned it with the kind of bow her people favoured, before untying it, and laying it against the wall beside the table. It wasn't a hostility, but an identification. This proved beyond any shadow of a doubt she was who she claimed to be. Though her sharp facial structure, unusually pointed canine teeth, and thick eastern accent said nothing at all against her. 

The waitress glanced from one, to the large sheet of metal, to the other, and scurried away. Apparently, she'd realised exactly what sort of meeting this was. 

"Haven't kept you waiting, have I?" She wasted no time in seating herself, watching the waitress's distress and flight with a cruel sort of amusement he chose to ignore. 

"I've waited longer for things this important." He grinned, taking hold of the small ceramic glass of sake set before himself that he'd been attending to before she had entered. He cocked a greying eyebrow, allowing himself a covert once over of the other's features. They'd arranged this meeting through a reliable third party that both trusted, and had never met face to face. He nodded approvingly as she took her seat, much to her confusion and suspicion. 

Pretty little thing... Not bad.. She was lamentably lacking in the bust, for his tastes, but all in all, not bad. Especially considering the company she was rumoured to have kept. 

"You have the information, I hope." The white haired man chuckled, when she did nothing but fold her arms, and eye him warily. 

"Money first. Then you get your scroll." 

The other frowned, taking a sip of his drink. "Are you always this neurotic?" 

"Cautious." She hissed. 

The note-quite-leaf nin shrugged, setting his glass back down, and folding his arms lazily behind his head. "The way I see it," He started with a cocky grin. "I'm the one calling the shots, here. I can fond information elsewhere, if you give me too much trouble." 

"And the way I see it," She shot back, cold smile pulling at the corners of her lips. "If you aren't happy with my precautions, I can sell this information elsewhere. Or not at all. And I think you do want this," A haughty flick of her wrist pulled a maroon edged scroll from her sleeve. "After all... don't you want Kisame's info because he attacked you a while ago? To protect that little fox boy...? If something were to happen to him because you were misinformed, well... You can't hold me responsible." Her smile flickered wider, and he could only assume that she'd noticed his agitation. He hadn't really wanted that knowledge in hands like her own. 

"You know about Naruto." He stated evenly, the shock sobering. 

"It's hard not to. The boy announces his name whenever he fights anyone. You might want to train that out of him, if you plan on hiding for any considerable length of time. " 

The blond was sleeping in one of the rooms upstairs, having worn himself out training, rasengan after rasengan draining his chakra. His surrogate sensei had made no mention of this meeting, and would really prefer if he didn't know what kind of people he was in the habit of doing business with. 

"Please excuse my suspicion," She spoke more formally when she interrupted his thinking. "As a general rule, I don't trust anyone vile enough to do business with me." She sunk in her seat, hands tightening where they gripped her arms, as her voice dropped to a bitter little grumble. "I've seen what happens when you do." 

"Ah," That made sense. The older man nodded knowingly, fixing her with a slightly more sympathetic gaze. "You're still in mourning, I'd imagine." 

"My people don't grieve."

"Your people, or your ninja?" 

Shw quirked a halfhearted little smile, still settled low against the back of her chair, in something akin to shame. "Our civilian's culture, and our ninja's are two different things entirely." The kunoichi remarked cooly, as she snapped the scroll open, examining it idly. To taunt himself, no less. "If you consider apathy and bloodshed culture, that is." 

He let out a little grunt and a nod. "That would be what the 'bloody mist village' is best known for." 

A wicked shadow passed over her smile, and she leaned forward elbows resting on the table. _"You should hear our folksongs," _She whispered in her native tongue. _"They tend to make tairiku-jin cringe." _

She was a great deal more at ease, slipping back into her own dialect, suddenly quite eloquent. Contrary to what one would expect,_ shimago _was a fairly gentle, graceful take on the continental language, each syllable clicking neatly into it's place. It had an odd little rhythm, that wasn't at all unpleasant to listen to.

"So?" Her voice was rougher in his language. "Are you interested, or am I wasting my time?" 

"Alright, alright," He conceded, reaching into his pocket, and fishing for something tucked safely away inside. "But you'll have to make do with this," He sent the round, green coin purse flying, and she caught it between two mesh covered hands. The ex-kiri nin turned it in her grasp, scrutinizing every stitch, and froggy detail, before prying open the metal clasps, and emptying Gama chan's contents onto the tabletop. She frowned at the flurry of small worthless coins that spilled across the polished wood, turning her eyes to him once more. 

"This isn't nearly enough. I'd have figured a career like yours would be more..." She winced "Lucrative?" 

"Of course it is! My books sell excellently. You're not a fan, I take it?" 

"I don't read." She answered icily, still eyeing the small sum sprawled across the table, a coin still spinning on it's side. "And if I could, I doubt I'd bother with _**that**_." 

The ninja-author sniffed indignantly, gathering up his student's hard earned savings, and returning them to Gama chan's eager mouth. "Pah. You don't know what you're missing."

"I'll live." She said with a sigh, her sharpened nails tapping a staccato cadence that seemed to match her impatience. She frowned, poking at the scroll. "I won't, though, if I starve..."The sannin took the hint, and reached once again into his clothes with a roll of his eyes, removing a more appropriate sum of money. Cash only, as per their agreement. 

Cashing a cheque was difficult when you were wanted in most countries. 

She accepted it cordially, and passed him the scroll, as promised, wasting no time in hiding her pay in her own tamoto. He opened the document, eyes trailing dutifully over each messy line, and clumsy character printed on it. The writing was atrocious, but still barely legible, like a small child's. The paper was invaluable, though. It was an exact, albeit less tidy, copy of a page from Kirigakure no sato's bingo book, her own notes and additions scrawled at the far left edge. 

There was something amiss, though, and he warily glanced over the top of the file. His contact had stayed where she was, grinning contentedly. He'd have expected a hasty getaway once her fee was collected, but she made no move to leave. 

"You had trouble with Hoshigaki's weapon, didn't you?" The Kunoichi smirked, drawling the words playfully. "It ate your chakra?" An impish glint in icy eyes accompanied the mischievous smile exposing her sharper teeth.

"Not mine," He scowled, brows furrowing. "You know how Samehada works." 

"I know how Samehada works." 

Another, smaller scroll was withdrawn from her other sleeve, to back up the claim. The sannin groaned. "You want more money, I imagine?" 

"No, no!" She giggled. The other's stomach sank, uneasily. If it wasn't money, then she had something worse in mind... "Please! Information's only real value is other information. The only reason I can morally ask for pay is the risk involved in obtaining said information. I'm getting paid to risk my ass, and you've paid me already." 

"Then you want information from me." 

"Precisely." The young woman nodded happily- much too happily- and he sensed something sinister approaching. Against his better judgement he asked all the same. "Well," She started, and as anticipated, her smirk grew crueler. "You're asking me to sell out one of my countrymen..."

"A renegade countryman." He pointed out. 

"As am I. He's one of my _**kind**_... I only ask a fair exchange: One of mine, for one of yours." 

The sannin paled, leaning back anxious, in his seat. "On who?" 

"You know damned well who." 

He stared at her sternly, mouth set in a thin line. "So you believe in revenge, but not grief?" 

She giggled again, waving the comment off with an airy swish of her hand. "Not revenge, that's just a waste of time. Self preservation is my objective... you know. So I don't end up how _**he**_ did, and everything." The other said nothing, so she continued, folding her hands before her on the table's surface. "What I want is harmless... Nothing about his weaknesses, or even how that eye of his works. All I want to know is how he _**got**_ it in the first place. He's no Uchiha... that was someone else's, and I want to know who." 

The older drained the remenants of his painfullt neglected glass of sake, andpushed unrulywhite hair from his face with a groan. "Do you remember the war against Tsuchi no kuni?" 

She leaned forward, nodding keenly. "My people didn't fight, but I remember it, yes." 

He glanced guiltily at the door, and around the deserted establishment, to the stairs to where his student... more accurately _**his**_ student, slept peacefully. The steady clicking of claws against veneered wood brought him back from his rueful meditations, and he faced the Leopardess once more. 

Jiraiya let out heavy, regretful sigh, and weighed the threat of sharing this story, against the threat Hoshigaki Kisame posed to a certain little fox child. It was for Naruto's sake. 

"Alright. It was about thirteen years ago, in the grass country..." 

* * *

ok xD I'm sorry if the end sucked. I was desperate to finish this xD I really hope I didn't have Jiraiya too OOC.

Thank you so much for reading! Please review, and have an awesome day. 


	3. Waiting

There's something very, very wrong with me.

No, seriously xDD I can't believe I wrote this. Er... Very very AU. A take on something that happens eventually in the fic, but here it happens very very differently. SPOILERS LIKE CRAZY XDDD Anyways... uh... yeah. I'm going to go hide, now... I'm sorry about this one xDD;; As for the genre... I really don't know xDD

This was done for one of DA'S 100 themes... 5. Waiting

So um... please review, I guess xDD

Disclaimer: Naruto Belongs to Kishimoto Masashi

Title: Waiting

Genre: Angst

Warnings: Violence, nudity.

Canon: NO

Fic Spoilers: **_YES. _**

Setting: Pre series ( 5 years), Kirigakure no Sato

Summary: It wasn't the capture, or the end it would inevitably bring. No...His only regret was watching that man walk away alive, with something that was rightfully _**his.**_

* * *

Seconds, hours... Without the light spilling into the hallway through a window out of sight, down the row of unoccupied cells, it'd have been impossible to tell. It had been brighter when they'd thrown him against the far wall and by the way the square of light was angled, and by it's fiery tint, and dimness, he could say with some certainty that it was evening. What he could see from his one good eye, anyways. The other had swollen shut.

He sighed, and regretted it immediately. The searing pain each breath alone drew, let alone a deeper intake of air, was one thing. But his head lolled weakly against his bare chest, and the sight of his broken ribs rising and falling with his lungs made his stomach lurch. The patchwork of blackened, and purpling bruises across the plane of cut and torn skin wasn't exactly pleasant to view, or feel, either.

His previously unmarred flesh had been decimated, deep gashes stinging with even the thought of movement. The stone walls and floor were as putrid as they were cold, and infections were assured. The acrid taste of copper clung to his breath, as he sucked wearily on a lip split in more places than he cared to count.

They'd taken his bandages from him. That had been the first thing he'd noticed, upon waking up on the cold, metal table in one of the interrogations rooms somewhere on this floor. He'd noticed his clothes's absence second.

There were a few men in the room, the malicious, narrow eyes cut into their all too familiar masks grinning at him, when his own gaze flickered around to room to get his bearings. He willed his arms to push himself to a sit, found them useless by his sides, though the cold bit into the skin like animals's fangs, and though he felt every cracking bone in his hand, and wound drawn slowly down his arms with a kunai. The interrogators were geniuses, that way. They'd learned where to place senbon to paralyze without numbing.

Except there was no interrogating to be done, that day, and they let him know it. Torture was their only objective.

He was to be 'made an example of,' they informed him, with no small amount of sadistic pleasure.

Hachidaime Mizukage, he imagined, would have taken the attempted assassination, and coup d'état a little_ personally_.

Physical pain was their only real means of torment, as there was nothing they could threaten him with otherwise. His death was assured, and they shouldn't have known anything about Haku. They'd know he had a Kekkei Genkai user in his company, yes, but that could have been any of the few who had fled with him. They informed him haughtily how close they were to catching the others, not that he believed them.

It soon became clear why he was naked. Along with the shame, was another type of suffering all together. Mizu no kuni, this time of year, was frigid. To be undressed, on a metal table, in the concrete basement of the Mizukage's building was unbearable, the chill actually burning his skin like cold fire. Oh, and humiliation was another of the torturers's favourite tricks. He'd tried to preserve his dignity, of course, but there was only so much he could endure without letting a cry slip. In the battle field it was different. The distractions a fight posed left one little time to consider the pain a wound induced. But here, where he was rarely permitted to see what they were doing, and with no means of defending himself, the agony inflicted was far more distressing. He could recall how the two ANBU operatives had paused, and turned slyly to face one another, a satisfied cackle ringing in the air, muffled by the polished masks they wore, and had increased their efforts. Never did he beg for mercy, but it had been all he could do to keep from whimpering when one got the bright idea to heat the flat of a kunai with a match, and press it to the near-frozen soles of his feet. Not to mention what they'd done to his groin.

Worse still was the jeering, when they noticed the odd little habit he'd fallen into during the agony. There were always two interrogators, though not always the same too. After what he assumed was an hour or two, one or both would leave him, and another would take their place. As the door was opened, for even a fraction of a second, he always found himself craning his neck for a glance out into the hallway, at the masks and figures of the others milling about outside. There weren't many interrogators, and it was always the same few, lacking the one he searched for, in what could either have been hopefulness or dread. He had known full well she wouldn't be. But still... "Ha!" One of the masked men chuckled, seeming to note the pattern, and frantic sweep of his eyes over the other ANBU as the door slowly closed behind. "Aoyama Naoko runs the department now. And she doesn't like you very much. You see, she'd be taking care of things herself, if the mere thought of being in the same room as scum like you didn't make her ill."

Of course Naoko was in charge. She was the logical successor, and it had been before his flight that Mizukage Sama had asked for the former's resignation.

He sighed again, now prepared for the anguish it would cause. It wasn't the interrogators who left him with the most profound of the shame, however. It was the situation itself. That a man known as 'Kirigakure no Kijin' would be caught so easily. That the captain of the Ansatsu Senjutsu Tokushu Butai had been cornered like some animal, and defeated by the very force he once led.

That he, Momochi Zabuza, could do nothing more than suffer helplessly in his cell, and await his fast-approaching execution.

Not that Naoko's best efforts at a more subtle, ongoing humiliation didn't make his heart sink. His cell was the last in the row, the side opposite having one less. The space that missing cell would have taken up contained a desk, that a guard usually occupied. The exit was in sight from where he lay. His remaining clothes were folded in a neat little pile, mocking him from the desk's top. As a final insult, Kubikiro Hocho was left lying against the far wall.

They'd left him alone. The guard's changing alerted him to the time, and it was much more fun to let him lament alone -not that he was one to lament, of course- with time at an immeasurable standstill. They hadn't considered his makeshift clock projected along the floor from the window, but once night fell, it would be rendered useless until morning, anyways.

And when morning came, it would nearly be over.

If he had to die, he'd do it like a man, without fear in his eyes, or frailty in his demon's heart. Still though... He couldn't help but wonder how they'd do it. Beheading, he thought he might be able to live with, no matter how cruel a twist of fate that might be. Clean, fairly quick. It'd preserve at least a shred of his dignity. Which is perhaps the strongest argument, from the Kage's vantage point, against it. An execution in this village usually entailed nothing more than a few senbon to the neck once an interrogator was through with you. But if they truly intended to make an 'example' of him, a public spectacle would be made, to frighten others who may turn rogue. For those purposes, the gorier, and more horrible, the better.

They hadn't hanged anyone in a while.

Now _**that **_was hellish to watch. A long drop was more merciful, to be sure, the victim's neck snapping if luck was with them. Their head could come off, otherwise. Now, he knew that a short drop was something else entirely, and something all together more heinous. It was strangulation that killed a person, that way, and that could take quite some time. Face blue from cyanosis, blood vessels popping in eyes and face, tongue lolling out stupidly... Not to mention that a hanged man's last act is generally to soil himself. Zabuza retched.

What a pretty little picture _**that **_painted.

And that was proving they did something conventional. They could have come up with something a great deal more ghastly, for all he knew. Perhaps a mediocre stab to the chest? It would take ages to bleed to death, but it would happen. He closed his eyes, and let out a breath slowly. Bound and shaking as he turned a deathly pale... That would certainly be entertaining. Burning was generally reserved for corpses, but that would do as well. Or drowning, or burying alive... He shook his head despite the cutting sting in his neck.

Perhaps he knew a little too much about death for his own good.

He really had nothing better to do, though. He wasn't afraid, of course, just... interested, however morbidly. Death wasn't such a worry when it was imminent, he thought, with what would have been an amused little chuckle, had he the strength for such frivolities. He supposed, when it was over, which it soon would be, the method wouldn't make drop of difference. He'd have ceased to exist, or else be at Enma O's mercy, and in either case the dignity he held in life would have little meaning.

He'd given up on plans of escape almost immediately. Firstly, he hadn't the strength when he'd first been thrown into the dingy little cell, and the cold air and stone had drawn the remaining warmth from his skin, as he lay shivering. Secondly, the cell itself made flight an impossibility. They had been designed especially to hold those gifted in ninjutsu, countless chakra-infused slips of paper fixed to the exterior on all sides, even ceiling and laid into the stonework of the floor. The sealing jutsu they created leeched the imprisoned's chakra at a steady rate, weakening them into compliancy. Any attempt at moulding chakra for a jutsu would be immediately boot the seals into overdrive, and the surplus chakra being used would only be absorbed, strengthening the stone cage's hold. He imagined the prison's construction probably had something to do with whoever it was who had given Samehada it's frightening abilities.

And then the final reason: He was completely alone. Haku had been fast asleep in their temporary hideout, the basement of an abandoned gambling hall in a small town by the lightning country's coast. Zabuza had only brought one of his followers along, as he left to scout out potential employers, and that man had fled for his life at the first sign of hunter ninja. The demon had been left to fight them off himself, and the result was his sorry state now.

Haku was, as much as he wished to deny it, a child. He lacked training, and was not capable of rescuing someone from Kirigakure no sato's strictest confines. The other men were either lacking the talent or bravery. Without his leadership, any plan to save him would surely fall apart. For Mizugami sama's sake, Gozu and Mizu couldn't ninja their way out of a paper bag, on their own. No. He had resigned himself to his fate.

Though the thought of dying before his ambitions were complete... That left a sting in his chest. One he would have to endure for whatever eternity was to follow.

He glanced out into the corridor through his one functioning eye, and nodded solemnly. The square of light had faded away, a cold blue washing over the dreary concrete walls and floor. Nightfall.

He scrunched his face up with a wince, cursing his captors. _Let's get this over with. _

As if on cue, he heard the heavy door out of sight, but nearby groan open, and the dull hum of the flourescent lights along the ceiling as they sprang to life, one after the other. That one fixture he remembered, near the end of the hall sputtered, before dying, and becoming animated once more, as it always did. As it always had.

There was a jingling of keys, and padding of tabi garbed feet against the floor. The man who came into view's face was covered, as the others had been, but he couldn't place him as one of the interrogators. He seemed vaguely familiar, in mask and figure, and gait. Someone he'd once directed, no doubt. Zabuza cocked a suspicious eyebrow as the boy, as he couldn't have been more than seventeen, picked his pants off the table, and shook them out with a stiff wave of his arms.

"They say you can have these back, now." His tone was business like, and not exactly unkind. This made the battered nuke ninja more suspicious than he would have been otherwise, and he failed to reply.

The younger tracker shrugged, and made his way to the barred cell door, flipping mechanically through the old, simplistic keys until he found the proper number engraved on the side. Zabuza made no move to escape when he pushed the door open, so he stepped inside quite easily, bloodied khaki slacks folded over his arm to keep his hands free. He whistled taking in the older man's damaged form. "They really did a number on you, didn't they?" He inclined his head thoughtfully, noting his old superior's useless arms, and therefore his inability to dress himself. With another equally impassive jut of his shoulders he took it upon himself to do the job. Trackers generally undressed corpses before disposing of them, and so he had no resignations about the prisoner's state, or pride for that matter.

Zabuza kept his eyes focussed forward, on kubikiri hocho from across the room, and did nothing to discourage the other. He'd been doing all he could to ignore his groin, as the pain was beyond belief, and thinking about it only seemed to make it worse. As much as this hurt, he was unbelievably thankful for the ratty fabric. It eliminated the visual cues, and that kept the seething agony in his legs and crotch from springing back into the forefront of his thoughts. His back and legs had gone numb from the cold, and this offered a small respite from that misery as well.

"It's only because Mizukage Sama wants a word with you." The boy explained, as he turned and locked the cell behind him. For reasons he couldn't quite grasp, this made him laugh.

Deep, throaty barking laughter, voice hoarse from it's lack of use, and lack of water. A white hot pain flourished from his chest cavity towards his extremities as the cackle shook him, and it faded to a pathetic little choke. Breath goes in, breathe goes out... ribs go up, ribs go down... He bit his already torn lip, hissing in anguish, and humiliation as he waited for the pain to fade. He was waiting for a long while.

How odd, that the sadistic bastard he'd obeyed for far too long seemed concerned with his state of undress. Why? He'd have expected the kage to enjoy every wound his orders had inflicted, and every misery he'd imposed upon his captive.

He had his answer soon enough, when the dull thud of the door was heard not once, from the far side of the hallway, but twice, and only one set of footsteps were heard.

By all eighteen hells, _**no.**_

He was not surprised when the man he'd grown to hate with an unsettled passion crossed his line of vision, stopping to grin smugly at the broken rogue. But Zabuza's stomach fell, and heart leapt all the more woefully as the delicate figure he'd dreaded followed, obediently.

He kicked himself inwardly for ever mistrusting the news he'd heard. Of course Tsubasa had told the truth; he wasn't capable of lying. His dignity would never allow something so tasteless. Still, it was a shock. She was _**alive**_.

"Kotone," A strangled whisper was the closest he could come to forming to real words, but she made no notice. Her pale eyes were cold, and refused to meet his own. He blinked, thoroughly dazed, as he watched the hem of her yukata, which she wore casually now, play about her mesh-covered ankles as she moved. Her voice was icy, and turning to untie the bandages that kept her own weapon secured to her back, and set Kiyoshi by Kubikiri Hocho's side, addressed the kage politely.

"I don't see why you've brought me here, Mizukage Sama."

Everything looked artificial, in the harsh flourescent light. From Kotone's washed out skin tone, and atypical shadows over the kage's face, to the garish patches of his blood staining the walls and floor. It had somehow eased his pain. But there was nothing to keep the unexpected sting of her voice from it's full effect. Her tone was unaffected, disinterested. Almost weary.

"Come now, Kotone. I would have thought you'd have liked to see your dearest again."

"Dearest?" Kotone scoffed, back still to his cell. "Your sense of humour never ceases to amaze me, sir."

Her disdain was not undeserved. His stomach clenched painfully, and he turned his attention towards the two large weapons against the far wall. Close... very close, but a hair of space separated them. Side by side, but not near enough to touch. Much as were their proprietors were.

His weapon was well suited to the demon: cruel, and sharp and unforgiving. The honed edge extended as far as possible, curving back to give more cutting area than the flat blade, alone. Not so much to look at, but dangerous, and effective. Drop it on something, and it falls dead. He had no mind for aesthetics, and a great deal for utility.

Kiyoshi was a strange weapon. Kubikiri Hocho had it's blunted side as well, yes, but the other's was bizarre. Sharp little points falling between harmless lulls in the metal's surface, that concentrated the force to them. Inconsistent, and deadly as it may be, there was a delicate, out of place beauty in it's design.

He repressed another gloomy sigh, as his functioning eye swept over her form. She'd left her hair down, which he knew she did quiet rarely. The harsh, flourescent bulbs were unkind to her, and her lovely dark hair turned a garish blue where the light hit it. She tucked a stray bit behind her ear, prodding gently at the little figurines she'd attached to Kiyoshi's hilt, and the whimsical clicking of ceramic on ceramic met his ears. The Kage grinned, looking thoroughly pleased with himself.

"Now, now, Kotone chan, there's no need to be so cold. Don't you think the boy deserves a proper farewell?"

The young woman sighed, and a thread snapped between her fingers, hand closing around something small. She turned, and without once looking down to meet his eye, stopped opposite the bars, clawed fingers of her free hand curling slowly around one thin metal beam. He stayed where he was, eyeing her suspiciously, so she motioned for him to come closer with a flick of her wrist.

He winced, and remembering his present company, fought to suppress a cry. His legs and knees shrieked in protest as he willed them to drag himself across the frigid stone with as much dignity as he could manage. Which didn't seem to be much, as another of the Kage's sadistic chuckles rang through the hall, as he stepped closer, watching her actions intently.

Kotone finally turned her gaze downwards, though her expression remained fixed, and lifeless. Her hand trailed down the metal posts as she sank to her knees, now at his eye level. Her expression did not soften, and if anything, her eyes grew more narrow as she leaned forward, placing her small hand in his lifeless one. "Take this." She whispered, pressing something tiny into his palm. "Given what you've got ahead of you, Kijin, I'd say you need it more than I."

His dark sepia eye widened a fraction, thin eyebrows arching in surprise. Those stupid little figures her we her prized possessions, a gift from one of the only people she'd ever really held dear. Someone who had met his end as he would; by Hachidaime's hand.

He knew their meaning well: The mottled orange and white cat brought good luck, the red good health, and the black cat... The black cat was Kotone's favourite. She felt it kept her safest. The black cat protected against demons, and evil spirits.

Which could very well be useful, where he was headed.

He opened his mouth to reply, but her expression made him think better. Blank, cold blooded. The gesture was one of mocking, not affection.

"I had thought those were awfully important to you," The Kage made his presence known again, voice now tinged with amusement. The girl smiled.

"I'll have it back soon enough."

Zabuza flinched as her hand trailed up his arm, and under his chin. He let her tilt his head one way, then the other, examining the damage to his face, and broken cheekbone, thumb tracing the cuts in his lower lip, the warm touch burning his frost bitten skin. He watched the shadows cast by the flickering light down the hall dancing across her face, as her azure-blue eyes studied him with what may have been a touch of intrigue, her lips parted slightly. He did his best to keep anything wanton show in his own face.

Kotone pulled him closer, and ignoring the blinding flash of pain this caused, he allowed her to draw him into a quick, chaste kiss. There was a flick of her wrist, and a sharp agony spread through his chest. She pulled away, eyes fluttering open, and as he gasped for air, unable to claw at the senbon needle embedded somewhere near his heart. "Good luck." She hissed, getting to her feet, and returning to her Kage's side.

The older man awarded her an appreciative pat on the shoulder, and she smiled contentedly at the praise. "I suppose we'll see you tomorrow." The Kage smirked.

"Not me."

"Hm?" Hachidaime quirked an eyebrow.

"It was you who assigned me that month long spying assignment near the land of lightning's eastern port," Kotone began glancing over her shoulder at the prisoner, as she secured Kiyoshi to her back once more.

"I have no intention of attending any execution, tomorrow."

And with that, they disappeared down the corridor, Hachidaime's possessive hand still resting on her shoulder. One set of footsteps, two thuds of the door as it closed, and the dying groan of the lights, as they extinguished themselves, one by one.

He let out a low groan, too exhausted, and weak and pained to drag himself back against the wall. She wouldn't be there. He didn't care, of course. It just seemed strange to consider, and he couldn't decide if it would be more or less difficult to retain his composure if she stood by their kage's side- always his loyal puppet- by the gallows.

He behaviour came as no real shock, now that he thought about it. She'd always been weak that way, and it seemed that her soul belonged completely to that man, now. A concept he was well familiar with: Shinobi were nothing but tools. He had no trouble accepting that maxim, and knew it to be true, for most. If she were content to live without free will of her own, who was he to stop her? It was simply the foolish thing's choice in possessor that made his blood boil.

Or would have, had he any blood to spare, at present.

The sting of the senbon, that final betrayal, had began to ebb, and faded to a pain that was like many he felt now. There were too many senbon sores to really care about one, anymore, and his attention turned instead to the still-warm trinket nestled safely in his closed hand.

Zabuza turned his head slightly, looking past the sucking chest wound still keeping up it's steady pace of rising and falling, and uncurled his stiff fingers. The glossy, crimson bauble stared back at him lightheartedly, one paw depicted in a wave. He turned it in his hand, frowning.

Red?

Bad though her eyesight was, he'd have imagined this to be no problem for her. It would have been a fuzzy Maneki Neko, but a scarlet one all the same. Kotone knew superstition much too well to make this kind of error. Was this some sick joke? Wishing a condemned man good health? Zabuza grit his pointed teeth, and raised his arm despite the disagreeable sensation it caused, to smash the blasted thing against the far wall. Something clicked.

He could move his left arm.

A frantic glance down at his shoulder verified his suspicion. Kotone had stabbed him not with a needle from her sleeve... but from the one in his left shoulder keeping the appendage still. Zabuza grinned. She had wished him good luck... not goodbye.

Perhaps she wasn't such a puppet, after all.

Pain pushed to the back of his mind in Zabuza's sudden haste, he freed his other arm. Thoughts flying through his already dizzy head, he forced himself to the cell door, eyeing the needle, and lock. Adrenalin overpowered the agony, and he reached through the bars with his injured arms, poking the projectile through the keyhole, and prodding until a greatly satisfying click met his ears.

"_I have no intention of attending any execution, tomorrow." _

And neither did he.

_vvvvvvvvvv_

"Kotone Senpai!"

The girl turned to look behind herself, at the tracker charging towards her desk in a panic. It was early, and she had precious little time until the boat she was meant to catch departed for the lightning nation. She set down the maps she had been looking over last-minute, as the slightly older ninja pulled his mask from his face. He pushed his wavy hair, so uncommon amongst their people, from his dark eyes, glancing at the others in the room.

"Hatsuka San? Is something the matter?"

He nodded fervently. "Zabuza Senpai. He's disappeared. Vanished. Escaped!" She could see the grin he was trying to keep from his lean face, and inclined her head in feigned thoughtfulness, a hand holding throwing needle beating a steady staccato against the tabletop. She smiled to herself, before replying.

"I wonder how that could have happened?"

* * *

There's more to this xDD but I thought that might make it too long, and also, it didn't really seem to fit with the rest xD like, the tone is different.

Anyways, hope you enjoyed it, and that I haven't freaked anyone out xD thank you for reading. Please review, and have an awesome day n.n


	4. Sutego

9, 432 words. Oh... my...god. O.O

For anyone who cares, this is why I havn't gotten "Breathe again 29" done yet xDD Holy crap did this take me along time xD But I really, really wanted to write it, sooo...

I hadn't anticipated how difficult it would be to write for a six year old xDD

The translations for some things are at the author's notes at the end. No one's betad this, so I apologize for the mistakes I've no doubt missed xD

Anyways! Big hug to anyone reading these n.n I love you guys. Please review, and please enjoy!

Disclaimer: Naruto Belongs to Kishimoto Masashi

Title: Sutego

Genre: General

Warnings: Child Abuse

Canon: Yes

Fic Spoilers: No

Setting: Pre series (19), Kirigakure no Sato

Summary: "Go on! Get! You don't live here anymore!" The girl screamed, panic taking hold of her legs as she turned, and bolted for the door as quickly as her tiny limbs would allow; without thought to direction, or the darkness outside

* * *

"For goodness's sake, quiet down."

"Sorry, Obaa san." The sing song tone promised no sincerity, the tiny speaker distracted as she pressed her nose to the store's window, gazing out into the foggy street, beyond. None of the dark shapes moving through the thinning mist, and fading daylight appeared familiar, and the girl's face fell, her grip tightening on the worn, brightly coloured toy in her tiny hands. She'd been staying with her surrogate grandparents for as long as she could remember, and this was disheartening in it's familiarity. "Otou San said he'd be back today." She turned, large blue eyes downcast as she hugged the stuffed lizard to herself with thin, weak arms.

Childish disappointment was clear in the tone, and the old woman behind the cash register rolled her eyes. "Things change in your father's line of work," Her voice was taught, but the girl took no notice of any hesitation. "Now stop moping. You can either help Oji San stock shelves, or you can go up to bed."

The six year old bit her lip, whispered something to the plush stegosaurus, and then nodded. She'd had the toy since she was very young, unable to think of a time when she wasn't clutching 'Kyouryuu' to her side. It was one of the few she owned, and was, without question, the girl's best, and only friend. The old woman had found it endearing, at first. She played with it as though it was another participant, and not like a toy, and when the girl was very small, she remembered watching this eccentricity with beaming eyes, and a certain fondness. But now, as the girl aged, and still continued to speak to the thing, and treat it as human; it had started to become disturbing.

The older woman had _**tried**_ to encourage more normal habits for a little girl to be displaying. She'd given the child a nice little doll a few months ago. Kotone had taken it gleefully, and within moments, the stuffed dinosaur was 'devouring' it with high pitched roars and even higher pitched screams of terror from the doll, all of which came from Kotone's little mouth. No one, it seemed, had bothered to explain to her that Stegosauruses were herbivorous, and Obaa San doubted she'd have cared if they did.

"Kotone chan..." She started, her voice raspy with age, and wavering with nervousness. "That toy... you speak to it." The girl nodded plainly, smiling at the silly question. "It never speaks back, does it?" She thought of the block of ice that called itself her father, and shuddered. Given that parentage, insanity seemed a likely fate.

Kotone shook her head and giggled, hugging the mess of torn and stitched red fabric that was Kyouryuu to her chest lovingly. "No. I always talk. He just listens." She was shifting her weight back and forth, pigtails swishing with her. "That's what I like about him." And with that, the little girl skipped down the row of cheap, non perishable food items the impoverished people of their village had to rely on during the winter, a blur of dark blue, pink and pale.

Her 'grandfather' was stooped by some boxed and nodded when she moved to place one. Years spent earning her keep in the shop had told her where everything went, and though she worked slowly- many of the boxes being nearly her size- she did what she could, and tried not to get underfoot. She'd been raised quite simply: There was always someone in charge, and she was to do as they told her. She was always to keep that in mind around her father, and here as well. She'd also been taught to be useful whenever possible, and so she picked up the nearest package, and, always clutching her silent, cloth and stuffing friend, clumsily carried it to it's spot on the other side of the room.

She finished shelving the boxes she could reach, and was ordered up to bed, out of the way. She said her goodnights to her disinterested guardians, and hurried up the stairs, which she had to climb with her hands as much as her feet. The couple who owned the shop lived in the small apartment above it, and had provided their charge with a cot in their living room. It was dark, and cold, but she had warm blankets on the hard, rickety cot that squeaked when she sat down on it. And most importantly, she had Kyouryuu.

She covered herself in the thick sheets, and stared at the odd shadows cast across the ceiling and walls, hugging the toy close. She had nightmares often in this place, or in her room, alone, at home. When frightened, the six year old always found herself craving the security of human attention, and had once wandered to her father's room in search of comfort. He'd sent her back to her own bed with a cryptic scolding that had conditioned her to stay put, shaking until morning or until sleep overcame her again.

_There are things in the real world more terrifying than anything your imagination could possibly dream up. _He'd told her, eyes still closed, but somehow sounding very much awake. _Go back to bed._

She sighed, snuggled under the covers, eyes shut tight against the demonic shadows playing across the room, holding the dinosaur toy close. It was late, and the child was tired; sleep claimed her for an indiscernible amount of time, and though the sun had begun to cast the soft glow of morning across the room, it felt as though mere seconds had passed since she'd shut her eyes.

It wasn't sunlight, or the smell of breakfast that had woken her, as the hour was much too early still for either of those things. Instead, it was the dull murmur of words from beneath the floorboard; talking in the shop that would not be open for hours.

A light went on behind sleepy eyes, and the elated six year old sprang from her bed, and raced down the stairs as quickly as her balance would allow, Trailing the red and blue stegosaurus behind herself. "Otou san!" She nearly slipped, flying down the old wooden staircase, but somehow retained her footing, and tackled the man, who was addressing Obaa San,'s waist.

Of course, she was only a fraction of his size, and he remained steadfast, prying away the child's hug curtly. "Kotone, no." He said simply, gaze still fixed on the woman and her husband, who both seemed much paler than usual. Almost as pale as he and his daughter were.

"Thank you." Her father's voice was always level. Adults seemed to find it unnerving, but the child's mind saw no threat in many things that she should perhaps have. He drew money from his pocket, and paid the 'baby sitters' what he'd promised."She wasn't too much trouble, I hope."

"N-no. No trouble." Kotone cocked her head at the old man's hastened stammering, but thought nothing of it. Her father was home again. He left rarely in winter, but when he did, it tended to be for a longer time, and near spring his mission load tended to pick up again. The child was especially grateful to have woken to greet him, however unwelcome her methods were. It wasn't unusual for her to sleep right through his arrival, and awake the next morning in her own bed, at home.

She trotted after happily, now thoroughly awake, as he exited the store. Snow still fell heavily this time of year, and the night's flakes were thick on the ground, at least to her mid thigh. But he broke a path through the places that had yet to be cleared, and she followed happily.

Their home, nestled amongst many similar ones in a nice little corner of Kirigakure no sato, was in view of the shop. It was a short walk, but tiring for the little one, as the cold began to nip at her fingers and toes. They were home soon enough though, and much to her distaste, was soon sent back to bed, despite her wakefulness.

Nevertheless, she blinked closed her eyes once more, and when they fluttered open, it was daylight.

_vvvvvvvv_

Spring meant very little in mizu no kuni. The weather did what it liked, the season only really dictating the time the snow lasted; not how often it fell. Still, though, slowly green started to poke through the white, and rain became more common. Summer promised thicker fog, along with the milder weather, and the world outside was blanketed in a thick sheet of cloud, blurring the faces of those who passed, and making the obscured end of the street seem to continue forever.

Visible, however, to the child gazing wantonly out into the misty road were other children. Their laughter floated through the thick air, as they ran, stumbling over one another, wrestling and giggling. Boys and girls alike, her own age give or take an amount she couldn't discern. "Otou San?"

He gave no answer, or sign of having heard, but she knew well enough that his well trained ears would miss nothing. He was packing, again. He'd been home less and less, disappearing, and reappearing at odd hours, and she spent much more of her time than usual in the shopkeepers's care.

"Otou San, can I go out and play?"

"No."

Kotone sighed, and retreated back to her room, dragging Kyouryuu kun behind her. His answer had always been no, and there was no changing his mind. She'd asked why, and he'd simply explained that it would make sense when she was older. She'd accepted this as fact, and returned to gazing longingly at the other world outside, and the happy playmates she was unable to join.

The child lived in three places, and the spaces directly between. Her home, the shop, and occasionally, the beach. Her father had taken her once or twice, and she'd stumbled clumsily over the rocky shore, marvelling at the wonders trapped in tide pools, as her father rendered imaginary enemies to oblivion: patterns too complex to fathom, movements too quick to follow. She watched in awe of the shinobi's unearthly capabilities. But she had been in the way, and his glare shooed her off to examine her starfish and tiny, translucent, crustaceans again. Nothing enthralled the little kitten quite like watching minnows dart about in the shallows.

Kotone plunked down on her bed, pulling the toy stegosaurus into her lap. A small book full of thick cardboard pages lay abandoned on the floor. She hadn't enough possessions to make a mess, but the few she had were scattered about in a valiant effort at one. She opened the picture book, and with theatrical gravity, began to scan the small sentences at the bottom of each page, probably intended for a child much younger than she was. She squinted at the simple characters, sounding them all out slowly for her inanimate audience.

"Kotone. We're going."

She dropped the book, recognizing the curt order, and scurried down the hall. Clutching the beloved mess of blue and red fabric to her chest, she followed after him, through the mist and past the intangible children, along one of the paths that led to another destination in the thin triangle of her habitat.

_vvvvvvv_

The girl gasped, and huddled close to her stuffed friend and blankets, heart pounding, frightened tears threatening to incite wailing. It was terror that kept her quiet, as the heavy breathing from somewhere outside continued. She'd been woken by the sound of the door slamming, and then this animalistic choking, and gasping.

She'd been awakened this way before, always in the early morning, before daybreak. She'd trembled for a while, but called it a dream and drifted back into sleep's absent safety. But this time, the thing outside was no dream, and heavy, trailing footsteps on creaky floor boards proved it's actuality.

She took a deep breath, and gathering what little courage she had, stepped from the warmth and safety of her bed. Clinging to Kyouryuu kun to steady her little nerves, she inched her way towards the door, to face whatever demon lay in wait outside.

The door creaked when she pushed it open, alerting the ghoulish shadow rasping for breath in the darkness, propped up against the doorframe for support, to her presence.

"Go back to sleep."

She was quite surprised to hear the monster speak in her father's voice, and crept closer, eyes growing wide. "O-Otou San!" The man grunted a dismissal, and his face became clear in the darkness, light glinting off of his glasses as a cloud passed the moon, letting the light spill into the small cabin.

Kotone whimpered, and shining eyes threatened tears again, as she took in her father's appearance. He was bleeding heavily from a wound in his leg, and another somewhere under his white hair, which was stained pink, and plastered to his face by blood. He winced as he shifted his weight, taking a step forward. A dark puddle had grown beneath him, and tiny drops of red splattered the floor as he limped towards his room; his bad leg dragged pathetically behind him.

"It's only blood." His voice was as calm, and even as ever, despite his wounds, and laboured breath. "Get used to it; don't be afraid."

"Otou san!" She gasped again, and ran; her bare feet padding lightly against the wooden flooring, as he stumbled, and collapsed against the wall, hissing in agony.

The man pushed himself back to his feet, voice stern and cold. "Go to_** bed**_, Kotone." She faltered, and did as she was told, waiting to ensure that her father made it back to his own room before closing her own door.

It was only when the six year old found herself in bed again that she surrendered to the painful lump in her throat, and stinging in her eyes.

Kotone curled up with the teddy again, and cried herself to sleep.

_vvvvvvv_

She was expecting the order the next morning, and dressed and brushed her hair as best she could to be sure she was ready when he asked.

"Kotone. We're leaving now."

She nodded, and followed, close to his side, through the crowded streets. The road was thick with villagers on this unusually clear, warm morning, and he took hold of her hand. She smiled and cherished the rare, protective act. His gait was slower than usual, a lameness apparent in his right leg, and each step made his face tighten, his resolve keeping it stony.

The bell in the shop door rang, an innocent little note striking panic into the old couple's hearts; they both jumped, and cowered when his glacial eye fell upon them. He released his daughter's tiny hand, much to her regret, and folded his arms across his chest. "I'm not sure when I'll be back for her." He directed his voice, though not his gaze, at the child. "Be good."

Kotone adjusted her grip on the dinosaur, smoothing out the front of her pink, terrycloth dress, and playing bemusedly with the zipper pull. Obaa San frowned, and quickly put the child to work restocking the shelves that needed restocking.

She spent her next few days this way, waking on her cot, placing boxes and packages in their places, and watching the few customers intently. Her heart weighed heavily against her rib cage, beating heavily whenever the bell rang out through the shop, then sinking when a stranger entered.

It was the next night that something happened. Shouts outside. Cries from far away, and the odd ones from near. A man rushed into the shop after hours, and whispered urgently to Obaa San. Kotone hid at the top of the stairs, but was unable to gather anything from their whispers. All she could tell was that an orange glow had overtaken the night, and the air that entered with the stranger smelt of burning.

She'd been spotted, and rushed up to bed with sharp words, and the threat of a beating.

The next morning held some answers for her. A couple murmured between themselves, and she went unnoticed. A new Mizukage had come to power. The previous night's battle had claimed many lives on both sides, but Hachidaime had, in the end, slain Shichidaime, and a new power led their city. Kotone had listened, but not understood; talk of politics, and power were lost on the young girl.

What concerned her was the length of time her parent had been away. She grew sulky, wandering the aisles listlessly, muttering things to her silent companion, and yearning for some way to entertain the two of them.

"Kotone, come here for a moment." Obaa San was standing by the window, gazing out into the street. The girl trotted over obediently, but her melancholy was still persistent. Her face brightened however, when the old woman's finding became apparent, and she extended a wrinkled hand to point out the girl's home. "There's a light on."

A gleeful cry, and Kotone hugged the toy she clenched. "But... Why wouldn't Otou San come to get me, if he were home?" The old woman shrugged, and opened the shop door, coaxing the child to the street, and watching as she darted happily for home.

She giggled, racing through the evening dimness, sandalled feet padding quickly across stone, inky black pigtails streaming behind her.

She passed by the children playing, their playful cries, and thrilled screams of laughter as they chased one another, tackling, and tickling, dodging passing carts, watchful parents waiting in doorways and by open windows to call them home. She ignored them, though a fleeting glance as she passed, and a pang of regret caused a moment's hesitation. But she focussed her thoughts on the immediate issue: her father was home again, and she smiled, revealing pointed eyeteeth, and patches of black where loosened ones had fallen, and picked up her frantic sprint.

Scrambling up splintered wooden steps, and straining on her tip toes, she fumbled with the door's cold, metal knob, a gleeful mew escaping her mouth as it clicked open. Two small, plump hands were needed to push the door open, but she managed, tucking Kyouryuu between her shins, and grabbing him again hastily as she bolted inside.

Giggling and happy, the girl shut the door behind herself, pulling her tiny pink sandals from her feet, and abandoning them next to the side. She paused, frowning at the lack of her father's standard issue sandals in their usual spot, but her doubt evaporated like so much fog outside, and she raced into the tiny cabin.

The main room, apart from the couch and a battered arm chair in one corner, and the table, refrigerator, and stove in the other, was empty. She poked her head into her own small bedroom, and having realized the necessity of both hands for opening doors when you were tiny, tossed Kyouryuu kun to her bed with a happy cry of 'be back in a minute!' Always smiling, the girl scurried towards the only other place her father could be hiding: his own room.

"Otou San?" She crept inside: quietly, carefully, mindful of the bed, and any potential wounded occupants, who needed their rest. Her father, however, was not there, and so she stepped inside more boldly, a gasp, and a skip forward bringing her closer to the man in the familiar khaki pants, and flack jacket. The figure turned, and the girl shrieked, scrambling back to hide behind the doorframe.

The man that was definitely not her father turned to another, similarly dressed stranger, and nudged him. He'd already begun turning at the high noise she'd let out, rendering this prodding unnecessary; he let the other know this with a glare. He was shorter than the first, and his hair darker, though both's were shades of brown. He held papers from her father's desk in one hand, and a lighter in the other, the corner of one page smouldering idly.

"What the hell do you want, brat?" The first snapped, eyes narrowed.

"W-where... Where's my dad?" Her voice is barely a whisper, and she wonders if it's some kind of ninjutsu that's rooted her to the spot, and caused her knees to tremble. Perhaps it's simply their eyes; which meet her own for only a glacial fraction of an instant, before deeming her unworthy, and moving on.

"Dad?" The taller man sneers, reaching for something in the pouch on his leg. "Listen, twerp; I don't know what you're trying to pull, but-"

"Oi, look at this..." The smaller, paler man elbowed the other, drawing something thin and glossy from a desk drawer. A photograph that was unfamiliar to her, the light glinting off the glassy paper's surface obscuring the faces of the two human shapes, huddled close, perhaps in an embrace. The two studied it briefly, glancing from the picture to the girl cowering, and trembling before them. They exchanged looks, and the smaller one grinned bitterly.

"So the bastard had children..."

"Please!" Her voice was loud, the cry desperate, and their stony gazes silenced her once more. "Please," She repeated softly, voice quivering as her hands were. "Where is my dad?"

"He's dead, kid." The shorter man turned to his companion, the girl slipping immediately from his mind, the greedy flame a spark ignited rushing up the document he held, devouring the paper in it;'s wake, and leaving a pile of ash at his feet. "We burn the things we've got copies of, right?"

"Yeah, the rest we take back." With that approval, he set fire to a pile of papers, watching impatiently as they withered, and writhed in the avaricious glow of orange and red.

The girl stood rooted to the spot, hands seemingly frozen in their grip at the doorframe. She was still shaking, the normalcy, and casual air that had directly proceeded the indifferently relayed calamity had yet to let it settle. Kotone had heard them correctly, but they were wrong. Okaa San was dead, yes. It was Kotone's fault she was dead, and that Otou San was unhappy. But her father was alive. He had to be... He was brave, and strong, and...and...

The girl choked, spinning suddenly, pigtails flying, and staring transfixed upon the dark stains still marring the floorboards. A cold terror set in to the pit of her stomach, a stinging in her eyes and constriction in her throat threatening tears. Her father was brave, and strong, and _**wounded. **_

"What the hell are you still doing here?" Her whimpers, and mewling had attracted the two ninja's attention again, and they seemed much less patient. The taller man with the lighter hair, and sharper face reached into the holster again, this time withdrawing the shining, pointed weapons she recognized very well. He let the shuriken fly, one embedding itself in the wood she clung to, just above her hand, the other whizzing over her head. "Go on! Get! You don't live here anymore!"

The girl screamed, panic taking hold of her legs as she turned, and bolted for the door as quickly as her tiny limbs would allow. Without thought to direction, or the darkness outside, she stumbled down the stairs at what felt like a breakneck pace, letting her feet and terror take her where they would.

Harsh stone, and the day's discarded scraps and debris cut her feet, and made her cry; but still her frantic pace refused to be halted. Even in the darkness she recognized the place her dash had brought her too, and approached the shop on the verge of childish hysterics.

Obaa San's shock was apparent when she opened the door, only to have a pathetic, trembling creature latch on, and cling to her side. "Kotone?" Her voice was still stern, and unsympathetic when she pried the miserable child away. "What's the matter?"

She choked out an answer, tone quivering, and pained. The tears never came, however, and only a dull yelping that may have been dry sobs wracked her tiny frame. She stepped inside, pulling at the pink dress that wasn't nearly warm enough in the evening air, and eyeing the couple expectantly.

They exchanged looks. "Kotone chan," An unfamiliar, sugared tone made her uneasy, as the old woman bent down to her eye level. "Business hasn't been good lately. With the new leader... Things have been hectic. They're always hectic when a new Mizukage comes into power. Things will be hard, and ..." The girl was nodding, apparently oblivious to her 'foster parent's' main point. "We could only afford to look after you because your father paid for your food, and our babysitting. I'm afraid that there's no way we can keep you, here."

Her eyes went wide, vision swimming in the tears about to brim over. "I'm sorry." Obaa San breathed, as she shepherded the child outside, locking the door behind her, and flipping the unfriendly face of the 'closed' sign to the outside world.

Ignoring the cold seeping into her bones from the soles of bare, cut feet, the child stumbled numbly through the lamp lit street. She wandered blankly, hopelessly lost. She'd left her triangle, and had no way of finding it again.

Adults passed by, tall and shadowed, their gaze passing through her as she gazed up at them hopefully. A kind word, and hand, a smile? No.

She sniffled, remembering the previous night's terror, and the bloodstains still marking her lost home's floor. Okaa San had died giving her life, and now she was responsible for her father's death as well. Otou San had been going on a mission, but he was injured. She never should have let him go... She should have screamed, and clung, and cried. She could have feigned sick... then maybe he'd have stayed home...

Collapsing in the mouth of an alleyway, Kotone curled herself up into a tight little ball, hands over her ears, head in her lap. She'd folded herself in half, the tight coil straining her back, and burning ominously as she pushed her muscles and tendons to their limit. She fought to control the screams and cries that menaced her. All she wanted was to disappear. To vanish from the army of eyes who couldn't see her. She was cold, frightened, hurt and alone.

An alley cat hopped from a garbage dumpster, darting into the corridor, and melting into the shadows. It knocked over a trash can lid as it padded away, it's crash reverberating off the damp brick and concrete, and caused her heart to stop for a moment, tensing against the unseen threat. With that, the tears streamed forth, reducing the six year old to a wailing heap of shivering skin and pink fabric, dark hair trailing on the ground, and dirtying.

She sobbed until it felt her lungs would give out, tears endless, as the longed for the friend she'd left behind in her panic...The mother she'd never known... And the father she would never see again.

_vvvvvvvvvvv_

Her head pounded, her stomach ached, and the tattered remains of her once cheery clothing clung heavily to her bony frame. The tangled mess of raven hair ties messily in a mockery of the pigtails she'd worn once, in what seemed a past life, was plastered to her forehead and back by the heavy rain.

Pale eyes ignored the hair in her face, and rain obscuring the near-deserted streets. Mist clung to the ground where puddles formed and raindrops bounced where they fell. The market was usually bustling, and this dreary sort of abandon was exactly the opportunity she waited for.

Searching dumpsters for scraps to eat had only been useful for so long. It was easy, and safe, and the competition of others in her situation made getting enough from any benign source difficult. There were many abandoned children wandering Kirigakure's roads, separate, yet united. A few gathering places were established on cold nights, to preserve what little heat they could produce themselves, and save by packing tightly together. The daylight hours saw a more selfish habits.

She'd learned quickly that 'foraging' for food in a group was difficult. More had to be found, more locations had to be visited, and more chance of being caught, and chases off. She'd been unable to find any group for a long while now, and only really saw shadows darting in and out of alleyways, as she did.

No, even when crowded densely among the other homeless children, she was alone. The people passing by never saw her, the others seeing her only as a threat. As competition. She was a solitary being, driven by the instinct for survival. Still, though, she'd often catch herself gazing longingly at groups of playing children, yearning to join them.

A deep, biting cold crept into the village at night. She'd spent many nights curled up under a bench, or in bushes. It was dangerous, and frightening, and sneaking into a shop, waiting until closing time, and then sleeping inside was always her favourite strategy. She'd tried food shops, but they were wary of urchins, and threw her out immediately. Other businesses were less wary, and she had spent the previous night tucked between the racks of clothing in a shop that hadn't noticed her.

It was a fair walk down to the waterfront, but she made the journey everyday for the few handfuls of seawater she got to drink before starting back. The salty taste was overpowering at first, but her thirst was so great that she quickly forgot about her disgust. Strangely, this never seemed to improve things, and she'd soon be thirstier than ever. She felt better after drinking rainwater she'd collected in her hands, or snow, when she could find it.

She'd been feeling faint, recently, and her measures for procuring food had become drastic. She was crouched by the stall, eyeing the breads on display avidly. A tarp protected them from the downpour, the shopkeeper under a large umbrella.

His attention was elsewhere, on the dark clouds drifting angrily overhead, and the girl made her move. Slinking carefully along the side of the stall, and crouched, always keeping watch over the bread's proprietor out of the corner of her eye. A small, thin hand slipped cautiously to close around one of the breads, and bringing it away from the others will similar care.

The movement caught the man's attention, and he cried out angrily. Kotone squeaked, and holding the food protectively, took off at the best pace her frail limbs would allow. A rumbling in her unfed stomach urged her on, but a faint spell took hold of her brain. She'd been feeling weak periodically, and the small child whimpered as the ground came rushing up to meet her fall, the angry shopkeeper grabbing her by the wrist, and yanking her roughly to her feet.

"No, no! Please, I'm sorry! I won't do it again, mister, I swear!" She struggled desperately; the man paid her no mind, and continued to drag her off somewhere down the road, muttering bitterly, and shielding his face from the rain with one hand. The child clawed at the enormous had that had ensnared her wrist, but to no avail. Her cries, and pleas went unheard, and she scrambled in the opposite direction when her captor approached an unfriendly looking jonin, lounging in the cover of another's shop awning. "Let me go! I'm sorry! I'm sorry!" The ninja looked over, as her distressed cries reached an intolerable pitch. She kicked, and wriggled, but his grip on her only grew tighter, and dots appeared before her eyes as her wrist threatened to snap.

"What's your problem?" The man growled, a disapproving glare greeting the man, who seemed to be hesitating. The jonin brushed dark green hair from his eyes, frowning at the rain now soaking him, as he approached the reluctant shopkeeper, and the dirtied, still-screaming six year old.

"I...I caught this thief." The irate man had paled, and now struggled to gather up enough courage to speak to the younger man with the hitai ate.

"Congratulations." Drawled the ninja, eyes narrowed. "You're bothering me for _**this?**_"

"There must be some sort of reward for turning in a criminal..."

"That? That little brat's not even worth my time, let alone money."

" I...I... Please," The man was pleading now. "I have a family to feed..."

Am irritated groan, and the man ruffled through the pockets in his flack jacket, rolling his dark eyes. "They'd better reimburse me for this... 2000 ryou. And not a single coin more." The man grumbled something, and accepted the money timidly.

The jonin glanced down at the hissing, mewling little creature, that had bitten down on the hand holding her captive, sinking her teeth in deep; drawing blood. The shopkeeper yelped in pain, and withdrew the smarting limb, rubbing gently at the two tender puncture wounds her unusual eye teeth had left.

The girl crumpled to the stony ground, before scrambling to her feet, and taking off, not bothering to glance back at the ninja, or even to brush the tiny bits of gravel that stuck into her skin from her knees. The jonin's head cocked to the side, and he followed after at a leisurely pace.

The girl dashed along the rainy streets, soon panting for breath, and finding her legs grow weak again. Still, fear coaxed her onwards, and she kept the quickest pace her tiny legs would allow. She squealed, kicking out and flailing again as something grabbed her pigtail.

"Did you honestly think you could outrun a ninja, brat?"

She knew it wasn't. She'd seen her father move, and there was no way _**any**_ human could escape a jonin, let alone herself.

She shook her head, and heard him mutter something. "That's right. Now be a good girl, and come along." He released her, and she started away again. His foot met her stomach at an unbelievable speed, and she was sent flying: skidding into a nearby alleyway, head reeling, dots of light dancing about her field of vision. "What did I say?" His voice was taught, and stern. She struggled to sit up, eyes wide and shining with tears as she watched his shape move into the alleyway. Rain continued to pour down, and set a chill down her spine, numbing her fingers and bare, cut feet.

"I hope you know what we do to thieves, here." There was a smirk in his voice. She didn't know, but as he reached for something in the weapons holster at his side, she got a fairly good idea, and her blood turned to ice water in her veins. She squeaked, and clambered away, soon meeting the dead end of the alley. Crying and shaking as he drew nearer, raindrops glistening in the dim light as they ran down the razor edge of the kunai he held, and fell to the dirty, glistening ground.

"Look, there's no use, kid. Crying just disgusts me. Winter's coming, you'll die soon, anyways." The words were not meant as a consolation, and the girl's choking sobs came harder.

He frowned, and approached, readying the knife. The child jumped clumsily to her feet, knees shaking visibly, as she fixed him with the steadiest gaze her wide childish eyes could provide, the rain washing the tear tracks from her pallid face. "Don't come any closer." Tiny hands balled into fists by her sides.

The jonin grinned, then threw his head back in a full blown chuckle. "You're threatening me? Oh, that's adorable!" Still laughing, he continued his pace forward, backing the six year old against the cold brick wall, and pressing the tip of the kunai to her fragile throat.

She kept squirming, and squeaking, and brought her foot down on the instep of his own larger, sandalled ones as many times as she could. He didn't seem to feel it. "Look, just cut it out, alright?" Her irritated executioner spat.

"Otou San told me to kick and scream if anyone tried to hurt me." She sobbed; her courage drained like water to the grates along the streets.

"And what does your father know, hm?" The mocking tone was enough to make her weep again, but fear held the tears at bay, now.

"Otou San was a ninja."

"Oh yeah?" He laughed, the sharpened edge of the kunai biting into her skin. "And what's your name, then?"

"Ume Kotone..." She whispered.

"Ume...? Gyouten had a_** daughter?**_"

Gyouten? Was that her father's name? She had only ever thought of him as 'Otou San'... But she nodded, and the kunai was immediately withdrawn.

"Kid, you should have said so. That changes things." He turned, and started for the street, turning once he reached the edge, and eyeing the girl frozen in place by panic. "Well? come on."

Slowly, one foot seeming to move of it's own accord, the other following, she stepped hesitantly towards him.

"Follow." The order was crisp, and familiar, and she did as he asked.

She kept a good distance behind him, matted hair dripping frigid water in her eyes, and the tattered hem of her dress letting the water trickle down her weak knees and ankles, head still pounding inexplicably. "So... you're not going to kill me?" Her voice was barely audible above the pounding precipitation.

"Perhaps you've got some potential." It was a moment before she realised she was being addressed. Still, her father had never met her eye when speaking to her, and so this was nothing alarming. "Here's how this works. I won't kill you, but you_** will**_ lose your life." This puzzled the dishevelled little street child, and he sighed, elaborating.

"You get to keep breathing, but your life isn't your own anymore, understand? Your life belongs to Mizukage Sama now. From now on, you are property of Kirigakure no sato."

Wide blue eyes blinked water droplets from her eyes, before a slow nod he couldn't see shook her dampened hair. "I understand."

Night had fallen, and the air grew colder. Numb hands grasped at her bare shoulders for warmth, rubbing. The water foiled her attempt to warm up, and so she resigned herself to shivering, and chattering teeth as she shadowed her finder through the darkened roads of the village. A large cement building was their destination. A hospital, judging by the sign; it took her a while to sound everything out but she managed.

"What are we doing here?"

"Gotta make sure you're healthy." He glanced over his shoulder, and grimaced. "Well... we gotta make sure you don't get everyone else sick, is what I mean."

Leaving the rain was heaven. There was something about being inside without the fear of being sighted, and thrown back into the cold that made her heavy heart lighten. It was still cold within the dimly lit waiting room they walked into but she was out of the rain, and wind, and found her tensed, chilled muscles relaxing. There were benches; hard, and made of wood, against the walls, and they were terribly tempting. But the jonin, who had been talking to a young woman behind the desk at the other end of the room motioned towards a door, and she skipped after him.

The man pushed the heavy door open, the child hurrying to slip inside before it closed on her, and continued down the darkened hallway briskly, her padding footsteps alerting him to her trailing. She cocked her head to the side, as she noted something odd. There was only one set of footsteps: her own. Otou san had walked that way, as well...

He flung one door open, leaning in, and the exchange he had with the room's occupant was lost to the air.

"Another one? You've got to be kidding me! They start tomorrow!" A woman, perhaps the man's age, poked her head around the doorframe, and tucked a straight lock of dark violet hair behind one ear. "I...ooh..." She frowned, and clicked her tongue disparagingly. "Fine. I'll see what I can do. Come in."

The inside of the small examination room was the same mottled grey-brown as the rest of the building. The medic nin waited impatiently, before scooping the girl up, and dropping her down on the examination table. "I can tell you right now: she's severely dehydrated."

"Wasn't the other kid?"

"Yeah," The medic studied her carefully for a long moment, before turning, and pulling some syringes from a drawer. She muttered some calming words that the child wasn't really listening to, and seemed quite surprised when she simply observed the blood as it flowed from the needle, through the tubing, and into the vial attached. "You sure you want to watch that?"

Kotone nodded absently, still fixed on the deep red frothing in the small plastic tube. "It's only blood." She repeated.

The medic shrugged, and finished, wiping the spot with a bit of gauze. more needles followed, and the girl behaved herself well. The medical ninja poked, and prodded at every damaged spot; unsurprised by the soles of her feet, and frowning at the bruises on her arm, and stomach. She passed a green-glowing hand over the injuries, and Kotone squirmed, and whined at the odd burning of her cells repairing themselves. A quick swat to the back from the medic quieted her. "Have you been battering the recruits again?" She demanded. The man just laughed.

"Not so much."

The woman sighed, and with exasperation gleaming in dark eyes, she barked at the man to leave. He frowned, but she repeated herself, and he stepped outside. "Undress, please."

Kotone knew to do as doctors told her, and pulled the soaked, muddy fabric that had once been a bright pink over her head. "Careful of that one," She heard the green haired man chuckle outside. "She bites."

The medic exhaled noisily, returning to the same drawer, and withdrawing a jar, a book of matches, some paper, and an odd metal thing; all of which she dropped on the counter. She struck the match, dropped it into the jar crumpled the paper, and used it to fuel the little fire. The metal...thing... was placed in afterwards, in the flame. "That other little brat bit me today." She complained, leaning out into the hallway, and rolling back her sleeve. A crescent of deep, red dots marked where a tiny mouth had latched on to her forearm, and bit down. They were considerably more impressive than the marks she left, and she blinked at them singularly.

"Vicious little thing, isn't he?" The other laughed. "Look, you can see where he's missing teeth!"

The woman growled, shoved him farther out into the hallway, and returned to the room. "Turn around." Kotone did as she asked, but glanced warily over her shoulder at the kunoichi, who had drawn the now red-hot metal item from the fire. "Now," The woman dropped to one knee, an arm winding tightly around the shaking child's arms and shoulders, to keep her from moving. "This is important." She continued. "This mark's to show you belong to the academy. If you pass out, or die, whoever finds you will know who to contact. I won't lie: this hurst like a bitch. But you can't fight me, ok? I've had enough trouble with little street brats as it is, for one day."

Kotone was barely given time to take a breath before the heated thing - a brand, though she didn't know the word for it- was pressed to the skin of her lower back. A noise she hadn't thought any human, let alone herself, was capable tore from the girl's throat. A shrill, agonized shriek that ended in wails and bawling, as the thing was taken away. The pain didn't lessen by much, though, and the moment her arms were freed, she buried her face in her palms to keep from screaming again, biting down hard on the palm, near her thumb.

The smell of burning flesh made her stomach churn, and she stumbled towards a wastepaper basket, clinging to the rim, only just making it in time to avoid being sick all over the clinic floor. There was nothing in her stomach, and her organs worked furiously to pump _**something**_ out of her system, eventually spilling a thick yellow bile into the bin. She shuddered, from the pain, the smell and taste, and the awful weak feeling of her body acting of it's own accord.

She nearly vomited again at the sight of the metal thing now abandoned on the counter: the flat of it held the same symbol that their hitai ate held, and burnt flesh clung to it repugnantly.

There was the creak of a door, and man outside shouted something, slamming it shut again. "Stop that! Stay _**there,**_ you hear me?" Kotone wasn't sure who he was talking to, but he appeared to be on his last nerve. "Does this door lock?"

"Not from the outside." The medic kunoichi grimaced, rolling her eyes, and handing the ratty pink dress back to her, a pool of dirty water gathering beneath it on the floor. She took it, the wet clothing now a bother, as she'd dried off. It clung coldly to her skin, and the white hot pain in her back sprang up for a moment, before the chill numbed it, a bit. "Come on. Let's see about getting you some food." The woman took her by the hand, and led her back out into the hallway.

"Hey! I've got to get that back to the academy, where do you think you're going?"

The medic glared at him. "They're both staying the night. I need to check on them both in the morning; you'll get your little trainees then."

He scowled. "Can't she just stay in there, then?"

"We've got two, and that feral one-" She made a face. "That other kid's in there. I need one free in case anyone else comes in. She can sleep in the waiting room."

The man stopped her again, and glanced over his shoulder at the closed door beside the room they'd just exited. "That other one... He hasn't been paired yet... D'you think this one'd do? I mean, they're both... you know..." He made a face, and the medic gave an enigmatic nod in reply. "I'll suggest it." And with that, he trotted away.

Each step sent a jolt of pain from her hip to her leg, and she winced. Still though, she plodded after the kunoichi, until they'd returned to the first room. The woman sat her down on one of the benches, staring down at her seriously. "How long have you been on your own?"

"Since my dad died." Her voice was tiny in the open space.

"When was that?"

"I..I don't know...It was..." She frowned, face set in childish resolve. "The day after um... well. something happened. A new... A new Mizukage, I think..."

"The coup was almost three months ago." The medic muttered to herself. "What have you been eating? Drinking?"

"Food... things I stole...found." Guilt quieted her voice another notch. "I've been drinking water from the harbour. Snow, or rain when I can find it."

The medic groaned. "Seawater? What kind of idiot are you?" Kotone shrank in her seat, and the woman sighed. "Alright, alright, never mind. Have you been feeling faint at all? Does your head hurt?" Kotone nodded emphatically. "That's because you're dehydrated." She lectured. "You're pretty damn lucky, kid. If we hadn't gotten so much rain recently, you'd be dead. Your kidneys'd have shut down." She mumbled something about food, and disappeared behind the door again. She returned a while later, carrying a paper plate of onigiri, and a large glass of water.

The kunoichi set them down next to her, and watched as a hesitant hand took hold of the packed rice, and eyed it for a long time. "Go on, eat. They're filled with umeboshi, it'd good for you." She took a tiny bite, and chewed, for the first time in months, at ease. There was no danger, and she was starving. She reached the pickled ume fruit in the middle, the sour taste was not unwelcome, and she nearly smiled. Still though, her stomach was uneasy, and a few bites was all she could manage. The water, however, was a different story. She took the plastic cup with both hands, and drank, only reluctantly tearing herself away when her lungs insisted she draw breath.

"Stay here. You'll be transferred to the academy in the morning." She was then left alone, to curl up on the hard wooden bench, and sleep. It had been such a long time... She strained to remember what it was like... sleeping inside without fear of discovery. Warm sheets...a soft bed... a pillow... Her heart sank.

Kyouryuu... How long had it been? The medic had said, but she hadn't caught the number. A month, maybe..? It felt like an eternity. The anguish of loss had faded to a dull ache. Her father wouldn't have wanted her sulking... There was nothing she could do about it now... But there was an excitement in her pulse for once, now. She'd be a part of something again? Training to be a ninja... Like Otou San was...? There hadn't been a choice, but if she had been offered one, it's what she'd have chosen. She was happy. Frightened, alone in a large room that resembled a dark concrete box, but still... content.

With that thought, she closed her eyes, and the world around her meted into sleep.

_vvvvvvvv_

Something was scuffling nearby.

Her eyes were closed, and her mind had yet to revive itself entirely, but she could hear something nearby; soft, bare footsteps, and breath. Too sleepy to be suspicious, she only twitched when something warm- a small hand, perhaps? - rested lightly on her shoulder, withdrawing immediately. A second later, there was a tickling in the base of her skull, and she realised that the thing had busied itself toying with one knotted pigtail. She giggled, and whatever it was hopped back, and away, and without really meaning to, the girl fell back asleep.

When her mind was fully wakened, a while later, she assumed it to be a dream. That was, until she noticed one the missing onigiri she hadn't touched the night before. She sat up, and rubbed her eyes with a small fist.

Hadn't they said that there was another child there? She frowned, and picked up the half eaten one the thief- she flinched at the word, and it's relation to herself- had left alone, and finished it. Her stomach felt better, and she was famished.

The green haired man returned soon after and ordered her to follow him. She obliged, and scampered after into the puddle filled streets. She stepped in a puddle, and squeaked, murky, icy water biting at her skin, and ran to catch up, as he'd pulled ahead. He guided out of the village, and up a winding path to the top of the escarpment that surrounded the village in most places. The forest up here was dense, mostly pines and birches; coniferous trees preferring the climate. He led her to the edge of the great forest, and they skirted along the side, the cliff face looking out to the ocean, grey skies melting into the fog that hovered above the waves. He walked right along the edge of the drop, Kotone finding the placement to precarious to emulate. There was, she saw now, a path cut into the side of the rock face, and it wound downwards.

She inched her way along it, eyes set on the fall that was a few feet away. As the path wore on, it became deeper, and deeper into the ground, though always open to the sea; the mud was slick with spray from the waves crashing below. She imagined an anthill cut in half to be somewhat like this, and moved slowly, clinging close to the closed side. The jonin grew impatient, and glared over his shoulder at the little annoyance.

Soon, they reached doors. Large, and heavy, he pushed one side open with an incredible ease, and was swallowed by the darkness on the other side. She hurried, willing herself to trot despite the bolt of pain her back caused, and disappeared into the shadows as well.

The inside of the academy was dark. Earthy in materials, it's place within the heart of the cliff side was clear; all stone, and rock. Carved into their country itself. There were few lights, and the place remained darkened. The tight hallway opened into a larger room, a hub from which other hallways originated in all directions. Shadows flitted around the room, whispering amongst themselves, or huddled in corners, alone. The man who'd rescued her had vanished, but other jonin were lazing, or passing by. She wandered into the centre of the room, and sat down against the back wall, watching other small clusters of children converse quietly; conditioned to observe, but not to take part.

She was watching for a long while. The more timid ones were filthy as she was, bare feet and tangled hair marking them as orphans. The clean, fully dressed children were talking, some excitedly, some frightened. She wanted to join them, she really did. But the eyes grazing over the children were sombre, and she decided against it. If someone said she could, or began speaking with her, she would, and gladly, but as it stood, she would keep to herself, and simply observe.

Soon, the dispersed children, ratty and clean alike, began to bunch together. The air that blew in from outside was colder now, and the jonin and chunin began to circle more closely, shepherding them into a tighter cluster.

Soon they were packed tightly, into one bunch, the chattering hushed; A few were sobbing, and she could hardly blame them. The entire thing was so overwhelming...

They were stating now. The ninja began lingering in the room, in increasing numbers, and soon, all at once, fell silent. The mumur from the clump of children died as well, and softly, footsteps drifted from the hallway. They grew in tone, many and graceful, the figures fading into view. Though his face and name were unknown to the young ninja trainees, the rank and power of the Mizukage was not unfamiliar. Respect and recognition dumbed them as he stepped to the centre of the room, immense shadows cast in all directions by the light.

"Hm," He stopped before the assembled children, and slowly, carefully, let his gaze trail over each in turn. Kotone's eyes widened as his eyes met her's, and a grin spread across his face. She couldn't remember the last time an adult- anyone- had really looked at her before, let alone _**smiled**_. It was the first genuine smile she had seen in a very, very long time, and she felt a similar one pull at her own mouth, face brightening through the dirt and mud.

She was _**happy; **_so happy.

"You're a pathetic looking bunch, aren't you?"

* * *

Uh... I hope that made sense xD Anyways, for the japanese words, and I really hope I'm using these correctly :S

Kyouryuu: Isn't Kotone creative? xD she named her stuffed dinosaur toy 'dinosaur'

Sutego: the word for an 'abandoned child'. I would have liked to use 'suteneko' (abandoned cat/alleycat) since like, we all know Kotone's a kitty XDD but somehow, that seemed a little too... I don;'t know xD cute-sey. I hadn't planned it this way, but 'sutego' also sounds like the beginning of the word for 'stegosaurus' xD

As for Gyouten... I had to write this one shot before I could post the one I've written about him. I know he was...lacking, in the parental skills department xD But I swear, he had a reason for behaving the way he did.

anyways xD I hope you liked it. Please review, and have an awesome day!


	5. Asayuu

Um... I did that annoying thing again xD This was **_supposed _**to be a one-shot, but... It's over twenty pages long xDD And that seemed waaay too long to read in one sitting (I don't know xD for me, anyways) So this is a two shot, I guess. I'm just kinda splitting it in half, but it's like, one thing. If that makes any sense.

So this one's all about Kotone's dad. xD I know he seems like a jerk, but... He has his reasons. Not that I'm justifying child abuse, of course xD;; This was meant as more as an explanation for his behavior than an excuse. Anyways, I'll stop rambling xD;;

Disclaimer: Naruto Belongs to Kishimoto Masashi

Title: Asayuu

Genre: Angst/Romance

Warnings: Violence

Canon: Yes

Fic Spoilers: No

Setting: Pre series (46 years), Kirigakure no Sato

Summary: It was his fault Yuu was crying. And for that, Ume Gyouten would not rest until Rokudaime Mizukage had breathed his last.

* * *

It wasn't that she hadn't cared.

No, no, he'd never have said that. It was just that, as a non-ninja, there really wasn't any other useful advice his mother could have offered. Just the two things she'd told him before the men in flak jackets- much like the one his father had used to wear- had come to take him away.

He'd turned eight the day before.

He'd always known that it had to be this way. Born to a mist ninja, his fate was predetermined. Upon completing his eighth year of life, he would belong to Kirigakure no sato. He could just barely remember when they'd come to take Hiru Onii San away, years earlier. His father, killed the year before, was unable to serve the people, and _**he**_ would have to make up for that loss. It was his fate, his duty. And as such, was unperturbed when the two large jonin had arrived at his door to claim their Kage's property, and he went without a fuss.

It was his mother who had started crying. He couldn't imagine why.

Pale eyes drifted across the craggy stone walls and ceiling, noting both the dimness and chill in the air. that blew in from over the tumultuous waters outside. There was a chattering in his ear, on top of the more general hushed roar of the crowd, that he paid no mind. As long as he did that, he told himself, remembering the message his mother had given him, apparently on his father's advice, he'd be fine. Just keep ignoring the greetings from his left, and keep seeing ghosts where a sea of other children should have been.

"If...If I remember correctly, your father said that they're going to put you in twos." His mother's usually soft, even voice had dropped to a hurried whisper as she'd crouched before him, her tone marred by the choking threat of tears. There was a grim worry in her dark eyes, so unlike his own, as she'd bit her lip, and eyed the two men waiting impatiently in the doorway. A long strand of snowy hair had fallen in her face, and her distraction was enough to leave it there. Her hastened, sober goodbye seemed to have been her only concern. Nothing but the message she had to relay was important. "Ignore the other. Don't get friendly. He's a danger, Gyouten chan."

The boy had been confused at such harsh words, but had nodded, and taken them to heart. The words came from a father he'd never see again, through a mother he'd be without for a great long while. "And son..." She pulled him close in an embrace that threatened to suffocate him, her voice thick with unshed tears. "The most important thing, is to keep your own mind through all this. You're a smart boy, you always have been... Ninja are cruel by nature... Many live from one order to the next without questioning why... Your father wasn't weak like that. Though he followed orders like any shinobi, his thoughts were always his own, and he wanted the same for you... Please..." The sobs had started, and the boy's eyes were wide in dumbfound shock.

Adults could cry?

"Do what you have to... to survive. But ...don't give up your free will...ok?" She'd smiled weakly, benign teeth, that lacked the point his fathers's had in life, showing. A smile through tears, like a rainbow through a downpour. Comforting, and false. An attempt at cheer in the midst of utter gloom. He'd smiled in return, and nodded, though her words held no apparent meaning to the pale eight-year old.

The academy wasn't pleasant, and the rules, though simple, were stupid. He repeated that thought to himself with a satisfied little grin. He thought the place was cold, and desolate, and the rules forbidding interaction between the partnerships were_** idiotic.**_ He'd obey them, yes, but he'd always think they were ridiculous, and that's what Okaa san had asked of him.

He rubbed his lower back, with a wince, gritting his teeth against the searing of the new burns. If anything, he wished they had warned him about the branding.

The thunderous plodding of footsteps echoing through the hallways, hopelessly out of step with the jonin leading them continued, Gyouten's eyes seeming to pass through them. They weren't to be considered, it seemed, and he had no trouble with this. There were a few rooms along the corridor they'd finally reached, through what seemed a labyrinth of stone. Chunin, and maybe even the odd jonin were lounging in one, genin in the next on, or near their cots. He'd heard some fully fledged ninja, without homes, chose to live in the barracks along with the academy students. The next few rooms held children older than himself, but lacking hitai ate. The academy students's size and apparent age weren't in order, so he could only assume that their room would have belonged to the last year's graduates.

The bedding differed in each room as well. Aside from the cots, some held only simple, thin mats on the cold ground, and the room at which their guide halted, and shepherded them into contained bunks.

He and the boy he had been ignoring quite efficiently were placed near the back of the room, at the wall across from the door. The taller of the two brushed a colourless lock of hair from his face, careful not to touch the squared lenses that kept the great smudges of colour that was the outside world in order. His gaze was fixed steadily on the ladder propped against the top bunk, as he considered his options, and formed a strategy. There was, of course, a certain novelty to the top bunk, but he was being trained as a soldier, and such childish thinking was surely beneath any of them now. If he was tired, or injured, the bottom bunk would be the more practical option, and it reduced the risk of falling at night, and inflicting any damage that might inhibit the next day's training. Of course, his partner must have realised this as well, and the fight for the better bunk was bound to be quite difficult-

"I call the top bunk!"

Or not.

A darker child darted towards the ladder, scrambling up with a delighted cry, and collapsing into a contented heap in his pillow, and one blanket. Gyouten shrugged, and collapsed on the mattress below. If the other wanted to completely screw himself over, that was his own business.

"So what was your name again?" He asked brightly, poking his head over the bed's edge. "You're dressed nice, and you're clean, and have shoes and everything. You're not a street kid... d'you have family, still?" He persisted.

Bare feet was an unmistakable marker of the many orphans in the crowd he was pretending didn't exist.

"Ume Gyouten, and yes, I do." Gyouten took in the other boy's appearance with a weary eye, and a white eyebrow raised a fraction. This other child was his polar opposite. Fairly bubbly, the same age and a hair shorter, with dark skin, eyes, and hair. His grin revealed a row of pointed teeth, that save the few missing, would have made any mist shinobi proud. He appeared disappointed at the other boy's clipped reply, and scowled, scant eyebrows knitting a pout. He also seemed fairly decent, had shoes as well, indicating another family-raised trainee. He himself was pallid, though his white hair made what little colour he had stand out quite well. The icy blue eyes behind his glasses were keen, and sharp as the two pointed canine teeth that sat oddly amongst his other, normal ones like fangs. "What was your name?"

"Kensuke." He answered genially, with a toothy grin. "So you've got a family? Like, a mom and a dad and all that? Any siblings?"

Gyouten nodded. "My father died, not long ago... Around the time that Rokudaime Sama came to power. My mother looks after me... and I've an older brother. He graduated a while back- chunin now. I don't see him very often."

Ume Hirumae had been but a distant memory, in his early life. He could recall another boy's voice, a friendly hand when he stumbled, a smile to cheer him when the darkness outside, or the shadows in his room seemed monstrous. The young man who had stumbled into his home two years earlier looked very little like the vague phantom of a brother his memory could provide. His father's dark hair, and strong profile were all well, and he possessed his mother's fair complexion. The boy calling him 'brother' was indeed of his blood, but there was something very wrong in his air, and their father had noted it with a grim displeasure.

The older boy's pale eyes, eyes so much like he, and his father's, were blank. There was a distance behind them, and a distraction in his tone that was far beyond his years, and the smiles he offered his younger sibling were empty, and forced. To mention his experiences at the village's academy was taboo, and he was away on missions so often, Gyouten often found himself forgetting the other's existence entirely. But he'd be reminded when the boy, Hitai ate gleaming on his arm, and dark red under his fingernails leaving crimson stains on the walls as he floated to his room, always followed by a kind of shadow. A weight. A dark cloud clinging to his presence.

"I have a brother too!" Kensuke exclaimed, pleased with this newfound common ground. "His name is Junmaru, He's a chunin now. I think he might end up working here sometimes, so you may meet him!" His smile turned sheepish, and he cleared his throat with a bashful wince. "He looks after me. Mom an' dad both got sick, and well... It's just Onii san and I, now."

Gyouten opened his mouth to reply, but thought better, instead settling himself in his own bunk, and setting his glasses down inside his sandals. Best to keep to the advice he'd been given. He'd shared too much already.

"Goodnight." Was his only answer, rolling over with the single sheet he'd been provided. He sighed and curled himself up for what promised to be a very cold night.

_vvvvvvvvvvvv_

"Something a little different today, brats."

Gyouten sighed, resting a delicate chin on a small fist wearily. What today? More running? More drills? Genjutsu, Ninjutsu, Taijutsu theory? Foreign studies? His continental accent _**was**_ horrible. The dark haired child in the seat beside him was equally frustrated. Any class held indoors promised boredom. He'd done an excellent job of alienating the other boy over the last few months, and Kensuke had actually given up his attempts to catch his partner's attention.

"Everyone, up." The children obeyed, girls and boys who weren't really there standing, and then sitting against the wall in their pairs when he motioned for them to. "You two. Stand." The fair haired boy stood, hearing the shorter haired boy next to him do the same, without really looking over. "There's something every shinobi learns eventually..." The instructor started when they stood before him, trying to ignore the many sets of eyes boring into their backs. "Fighting is painful. And if you can't take a hit, you're not much use." A cruel grin split the young chunin's face, as he gestured for Kensuke to stand back. "I'm going to hit you." He told the boy with glasses plainly. "Ten times. All you have to do is take it, and get back up. If you don't..." His grin widened. "Hm. If any of you think you're partner's had all they can take, stop me. But I don't advise it... there's a price to be paid..."

Gyouten's eyes widened at the instructions, but had no time to reply, or even brace himself, as the teacher's foot flew at his chest, sending him skidding across the cold, stone floor. "That's one. Up, twerp."

A stunned silence had swept the room, as the eight year old struggled back to his feet, only to be struck down again. He let out a startled cry this time, something the speed of the last blow hadn't allowed. "Two. _**Up**_."

Another slow crawl to a stand, as he wiped a trickle of blood from the corner of his mouth. An elbow sent him down this time, and he cried again. Kensuke flinched visibly, frozen in place as he watched, horrified. "That's three." And then four, and five, and six...

"_**Stop!**_" Kensuke's voice was blaring in the hush the merciless spectacle had created, and Gyouten turned to fix him with a half closed gaze, dropping to an elbow when he tried to stand. "Stop it." The other boy choked. "He...he can't take anymore! Please stop..."

The black haired chunin grinned, and picked the near lifeless academy student up by the collar, and letting him fall him to the side of the room without hesitation, or pity. "Your turn, then." Kensuke gulped, and nodded slowly, with gritted teeth. "Ah, ah ah... there's a difference this time. That little pipsqueak can't bail you out. And... you've got to take the ones he couldn't. It's thirteen for you."

"W-what?" Gyouten's jaw dropped, bruises already dark against his wan skin. Kensuke was almost immediately sent flying, a streak of tan and dark clothing as he rolled, stopping with a groan at the other end of the room. His partner could do nothing but watch helplessly as his companion dragged himself back to his feet again, and again, with a seemingly inhuman tenacity.

"That's the thing about helping a teammate." The instructor commented dryly, as the sole of his tabi forced the still-kneeling boy to the floor, counting out a dreary 'eight' as an after thought. "Kind thought it may be, it's better to let the other suffer, or die. You're just screwing yourself over, otherwise...Nine." Another agonized scream of pain, as Kensuke was kicked in the ribs, and collapsed once more, clutching at his side.

"Kensuke Kun-" Gyouten started weakly, guilt clawing away at his stomach.

"I'm fine." The boy hissed through dangerous teeth, dark, narrow eyes fixing the examiner steadily. "I'm fine..." He got to his feet with another groan, but stood solidly for a second, before being felled once more. He pushed himself up with shaking hands, and the teacher stepped forward, placing a foot flat against the quivering, bruised plane of the boy's back. "Eleven... and twelve, and thirteen..." The older boy- Gyouten realized when a dull horror that their instructor couldn't have been more then twelve- counted with no small amount of sadistic glee, pushing the smaller child to the ground, and cackling at Kensuke's misery, as he struggled back up again.

"Fourteen!"

The student's eyes grew wider as did the journeyman ninja's, when the final count came from another's throat.

There was an strange quality to Kensuke's dark eyes when he raised them, even darker hair spilling over his face at odd, sharp angles. He was grinning, despite the blood oozing from the corner of a split lip, and the one eye, blackened and bloody, stuck shut. Dragging himself to a swaying kind of stand, he limped, breath ragged and pained, to the edge of the room, collapsing next to the other boy. He was still smiling, for some deranged reason the others couldn't quite comprehend.

He'd won.

"Kensuke..." Gyouten let out the breath he hadn't quite realised he was holding, the colour drained completely from his already wan face. "I...why...You shouldn't..." He stammered, the other's beaten cheer completely incomprehensible.

"You didn't do anything." He eased. "I'm the one who volunteered." If you could call that volunteering.

"You think I'm weak then." He knew he was pouting, but a little girl was being pummelled now, much to the distress of the boy watching with wide eyes, and shaking knees.

"'s not you. You've been training harder than I have lately...I sleep better..." But Gyouten shook his head at the weak attempt at consolation. There was something unusual about his training partner. An inhuman sort of tenacity that he, now, could never hope to emulate. In fact, he'd probably have fainted at the thought of a heavier beating, if not drag the wounded first partner back to his feet to finish.

"You... you didn't have to do that for me." He muttered sheepishly. "I mean... I've been awfully nasty to you, and all."

Kensuke just grinned, offering a friendly hand, and he spit out a loose, pointed tooth. "What are friends for?"

"Friends..." The boy echoed. For the first time in many months, Ume Gyouten smiled, one fair hand took hold of the other's tanned one, and shook it graciously. "Friends."

_vvvvvvv_

"Serves you right!"

"Monster!"

"Demons!"

"Ahh! Damn it!" Gyouten cursed, as he was sent to the ground by a truly _**pathetic**_ travesty of a side-kick. The boy's hands and knees, already bruised and bleeding from training, scraped against the rough concrete that made up the sidewalk, his fingers and palm stinging. But it was the sharp scatter of thin metal against coarse stone that had made him curse, as the world around him was reduced to a senseless mess of colour.

Apparently, that was enough for the much older village boys who had attacked them, and he could hear them laugh, and jeer, as they retreated.

It wasn't that he couldn't fight back. Getting the stuffing knocked out of him wasn't exactly how he'd envisioned the one day of liberty they were to be awarded each year, and the late summer day was warmer and clearer than he'd remembered seeing in a long while. The village boys had circled them as soon as they'd set foot into the village, a hard earned sight, by the way. The walk was not easy.

No... He'd felt the clumsiness in their blows, and careless faults in stance. He'd have been able to beat them off easily, with the year of backbreaking training he'd been put through. But it was his duty to protect the civilians, and attacking relatively helpless children wasn't what a ninja was supposed to do. He and Kensuke had agreed wordlessly, and taken the beating as they had countless back home, in the training ring. It was actually quite pitiful, compared to the thrashings an angry chunin could provide.

But his inconvenient sightlessness was quite a bother, as he fumbled around on his hands and knees for his treasured glasses, eyes closed, and mouth set in concentration. His tiny hands groped blindly for the glass and metal, setting down on something warm, and soft. From above, a high giggle and a shriek as the thing jumped backwards with a click of wooden sandals.

"Are these yours?" He blinked his eyes open stupidly, "Excuse me?" The girl- yes, it was a girl's voice, perhaps his own age, repressing another fit of giggles. The mass of blurry colour that might have been a child dropped to her knees, and took hold of one of his hands, pressing something into the bloodied palm.

"Y-yes, thank you!" He stammered, pale eyes useless and wide as he pressed the glasses back to his face, and the world returned to clarity, and order. His friend was eyeing him from a ways away, sprawled on his backside, with an idle interest in the scene. The other young creature was biting her lip as she took in the bruises, and scratches across his face, and hands. She was, as he'd guessed, his own age, and he imagined that he'd grabbed her foot a moment earlier. They were dark eyes behind dark lashes and hair, balanced by a healthy sort tan. The inky blue locks were long, and fell down her back, over the traditional civilian clothing she wore.

"Are you alright? Those boys... There were five of them, that's not fair!" An indignant rose had crept along her cheeks, and Kensuke barked out a chuckle from where he sat. "Woah, are you kidding? Five children against two mist ninja? That's unfair, alright, but not for us!"

"We're not ninja yet," Gyouten reminded the other with a sober nod. "But he's got a point. Please, don't worry. We're used to much worse, um..."

She smiled. "Yuu. My name is Yuu."

The other two introduced themselves, and Yuu got to her feet, folding her arms as she studied the two scruffy academy students. "You say you're training to be ninja... well that explains it."

"'Splains what?" Kensuke mumbled as he pushed himself back to his feet, Gyouten following suite.

"Why they attacked you." She whispered. "Obaa San says that now that the last of the bloodline users are all gone, people need something else to be afraid of. After all the wars... After all the wars, and fighting, people don't really... like ninja anymore. They think you're mean."

"We're not mean," The paler boy replied with a serious air, and furrowed brows. "We want to protect this village. This country."

"Yeah, but the adults..." Yuu glanced down at her sandals, shoulders rounding timidly. "They walk around here sometimes. I'm frightened...Being around them... It feels... scary, you know? Like they've got something not too nice to be up to."

"Pah," Kensuke grinned, clapping the girl, who jumped, on the back. "Nothing to fear from us!" Yuu nodded after a moment's thought, a smile returning to her face, as sweet, normal teeth were revealed, despite the odd gap where one had yet to grow back.

"Do you boys know your way around the village?" They shook their heads, and her smile brightened. Muttering something about being their guide, she took hold of one of Gyouten's hands, and dragged him off down the street. He went willingly, Kensuke bounding after.

The heavy scent of yeast was alleviated by the lighter hints of cinnamon, and bread flour, when they stepped into the little shop. Yuu was perfectly at home amongst the few tables, and skipped merrily behind the counter, encouraging them to follow. Kensuke's mouth actually seemed to be watering, but he did his best to avoid lusting too visibly for the breads and cakes behind the glass counter top. The shop seemed to be fairly vacant, as a harsh sort of poverty had settled amongst the people, one civil war after the other had taken quite a toll. Yuu had told him with a small hiccup that may or may not have been a sob that her mother had been killed in the crossfire of one such battle, caught in the road between loyalists and radicals's shuriken and jutsu. Her father had fallen ill and passed not long after, leaving her to her grandmother's care.

"Obaa San!" She called gleefully, the sadness she'd shared with them evaporated like steam in the air when she'd come home, and was now hopping boldly towards the kitchen. Her grandmother was a fairly kind woman, and had no objections to letting them play out behind the shop for the rest of their day, despite their ambition to join the ranks of the much-feared shinobi.

It was with a heavy heart that the Ume boy bowed to the time constraints set upon them, and had to return to his home. Yuu's smile faded when he'd announced the need to leave, though Kensuke only shrugged, and jamming one hand in a pocket, began the tedious march back.

"Yuu Chan..." Gyouten whispered, beckoning her a step closer. "Kensuke and I train in this spot in the woods we've staked out... If you want to visit us..." The gleeful cry she let out was a resounding yes, and he described the location for her as best he could, before darting to catch up with the other boy.

Training sessions became a test to the eight year old, a, excited tightness in his chest accompanying the jaunt to their training site, a clear, lakeside space settled amongst dense coniferous trees. An anticipation that took his mind from fighting, and irked his sparring partner greatly. He leapt to his feet with an elated call, from the stretch he'd been in the middle of, as something pushed through the underbrush, and stumbled into the clearing.

"You made it!" She smiled at the enthused greeting, raising the small basket she held for them to see.

"Obaa San said I could give you these..." Kensuke's stomach growled at the few eccentric buns she was offering, Gyouten fighting to keep his own behaviour a tad more dignified, somehow very careful of the girl's presence. Their rations at the academy were scant, and stale, and if one wasn't willing to fight off other boys, one went hungry. There wasn't enough for everyone, and Kensuke had long since surmised that this was done intentionally.

It had been a long time since either had been granted something so palatable, and despite Yuu's feeble apologies for the bread's poor quality, it was irresistible. Apparently, Yuu's grandmother had apparently been disgusted by Kensuke's scrawniness, and had taken pity on the two of them. She'd given Yuu the small load of burnt buns, and deformed cakes that were unfit for sales, and the stale breads that had to be taken from the shelves.

They'd munched away at them happily, and thanked the girl with great zeal, through full mouths. She'd lingered in the clearing, watching them train, before the stars began to poke through the thick darkness overhead, and she'd had to scamper home. Though absent the next day, she appeared once more, though empty handed. Not that either boy minded.

Life fell in to a three beat rhythm. Gyouten's even tempered, near-cold calm was balanced nicely by Kensuke's spunk, and fire. Yuu's overall gentleness was enough to quell their occasional clashes of disposition, and restore harmony to the daily waltz. Weeks turned into months, months to years, and still she came in secret, to watch them defy all logic and reason with inhuman speed, and skill, and the girl was always amazed by the 'magic' they did with hand signs, and water.

They spoke in hushed tones, and giggled as quietly as they could manage, hushing, and hiding her behind them whenever something stirred in the bush. Their meetings we not without care, as the two boys were always vigilant of discovery. Contact with outsiders was forbidden, and the peril of being spotted weighed heavily on an easily distracted space at the back of their minds. Gyouten had no idea what the punishment would be if they were caught, or worse still, what would become of his raven haired civilian friend.

It was late one winter night, in their third year, that it happened.

Yuu was huddled on a fallen tree trunk, warming her hands with her breath, before snuggling back into her scarf. She whimpered at the sight of the two less warmly dressed children, grappling in a round space of flattened snow, cleared by the week's practice. The class's numbers had been diminishing steadily, deaths frequent, and so their training held a special kind of significance. They were fighting to keep their lives.

But they smiled, and chuckled as they tossed one another waist deep into the snow. Yuu was here, and she was easily frightened by their doom and gloom talk of a trainee's life. They disliked worrying her, and so kept the mood light. Gyouten wondered if this was the reason for their success. Unlike the other remaining partnerships, they laughed, and smiled with pointed teeth almost as much as they trained. They were happy.

Not that they weren't also content when Yuu was absent. No, no, she definitely added something, but the two boys were constant companions. A symbiotic coexistence that sent off a red flag in the back of the snowy haired child's mind. Like something he was forgetting...

Yuu's friendship gave them both something invaluable, though. A contact with the world outside their barracks, a world they were permitted to wander but for one short day a year. An illness passing around the village, the growing suspicion of the Nezumi clan, the rare sightings of bloodline users... They were trivial, really, but it proved that a world outside of their classrooms, frigid dormitories and training rings existed. There was life outside of the academy, and they'd soon be permitted to rejoin it.

A crackling somewhere in the underbrush focussed their thoughts, and they sprang into action. Yuu stumbled from her exposed spot, moving for the safety of the makeshift ring, where she would be hidden more easily. But the boys's movements were hindered by deep snow, and the approaching threat was very nearby, a dark shadow through nearby pines and birches.

All stuck helplessly in the deep drifts, and already weary from training, and beatings, they could do nothing as the figure came into view, and Kensuke's jaw dropped.

The man, a chunin at least, by the look of his thistle coloured flak jacket, towered over the boys, and girl, eyes fixed in a steady glare. Dark, narrow eyes, that fit well with dark skin, and even darker hair. He sneered in displeasure, revealing a row of ominous, sharpened teeth. Kensuke's similar smile flashed brightly, as he scrambled to his feet, and charged the sinewy stranger, with a gleeful yip.

"Onii San!"

But the joyful dash was cut short, the older boy grimacing, and stopping the other with his foot. Kensuke toppled backwards as his brother pushed him over, sinking in the cold blanket covering the landscape. "I'm not your brother. Not here." Junmaru folded sinewy arms across his chest, always scowling, and Gyouten felt a constriction in his stomach when the cruel eyes passed over Yuu, and himself.

Hirumae's cloud hung over this man as well. The blankness was there, light having left those cold eyes long ago. But unlike his own brother, something sinister had crept into it's place. Something... Gyouten shuddered, adjusting his glasses on the bridge of his nose. There was something_** wrong,**_ and he couldn't quite find the word.

"The village bitch can't be here." He hissed, not particularly mindful of his brother's shock, or Gyouten's bristling at the insult.

"She's not doing any harm." He spat, catching himself a moment too late. Arguing with an instructor was suicide, but Junmaru didn't seem to care enough to really be angry.

"Do what you want. I don't particularly care. They just sent me to make sure you hadn't all frozen to death." He grunted something to himself, turning and making his way back through the snow and forest. "Hadn't realized it'd be _**you**_. I figured you'd have died by now."

"Onii sa- I mean, Sensei, wait!" But he'd sprang away too quickly for his younger brother to follow, and the heartbroken boy sunk miserably in the snow, ignoring the cold biting at his skin.

Yuu was trembling, and Gyouten put an equally shaky arm around her shoulders.

"That was my brother." Kensuke muttered after a long moment of silence. Gyouten felt the temptation to point out exactly how unnecessary that statement was, but glanced down at the trembling girl in his arms, and thought better of it.

It wasn't worth the fight.

_vvvvvvvvvv_

An excited chatter had died down, the smirking jonin prowling the empty stone room had ordered it. They were seated against a wall, opposite an opening in the other wall, higher up. It was a sort of hollow in the stone plane, and a few shadowed figures were standing, or sitting up there, in silence. Rokudaime Sama was apparently one of them. _Nezumi... Nezumi... Ume... Kasumi... _The vaguely familiar voice of one of their teachers checked names off of some list, but offered no real explanation of the test they'd been training for four years to complete.

They were dismissed, and told to wait outside, and stood to complete the order when the examiner stopped them. "Ume's team, stay. You're up first." The jonin ushered the others out of the chamber, exchanging snickers, and knowing looks.

Kensuke grinned. "This is it, buddy." Gyouten pushed his glasses to a more agreeable position on the bridge of his nose, and returned the grin, near-dizzy with glee. Finally. After years of backbreaking training, and cold nights, and confinement, they'd be genin.

They'd be _**free**_. Real Kirigakure ninja.

The room emptied, and soon it was only the two of them, tiny against the vast open space, and staring intently at the Kage, and others above, as heavy doors sealed them in from the outside world.

"I suppose you want to know what this test is all about then, hm?"

They nodded emphatically, taking a moment to glance at each other, always smiling. Something shone in the air above them, flipping, and catching the light with each turn, before clattering to the ground between them with a metallic clank. They both quirked an eyebrow at the kunai, before returning their attention to the sixth water shadow once more.

"The exam is actually very simple," The figure, always just out of sight, assured them, with a smile in his voice. "Only one of you can leave this room alive."

The silence that followed was deafening.

His heart pounded in his throat, eyes wide. There was no need to clarify; he'd heard correctly, and there was no hint of jest in their leader's voice. His eyes flew around the room, and he cried out in horror. Dark patches riddled the stone, and what he'd taken for natural discolourations were really a multitude of old bloodstains.

Instinct took over, and without any real thought, he darted forward for the weapon abandoned between them, a tan blur doing the same. Kensuke was a moment quicker, and he was blind sided by the other's weight, sent sprawling across the cement floor, a tangle of arms legs, and that one murderous kunai. Kensuke's eyes were feral, his movements fuelled exclusively by panic, as he pressed the knife to the other boy's throat. Gyouten grimaced, shutting his eyes tight.

This was it. He was going to die.

He'd never become a genin... never see Hirumae again... never see his mother... He'd never see Yuu again...

The blow never came.

The boy cracked one eyelid open, and was immediately presented with the sharpened edge of the kunai still held a fraction of an inch above the vulnerable skin of his throat. Kensuke's eyes seemed to have calmed, and tears streamed down his face. "I-I'm sorry..." He whispered "I'm so sorry...But I have to... I have to..." Gyouten caught the other's fist, and equal pressure kept the weapon in it's place. Kensuke was trembling, and a cold dread was creeping into his stomach, fogging his mind. The face became blurry. His opponent ceased to be a person, and became an ideal. He was a threat personified, danger incarnate.

There was a silver blur as one side won the struggle, and Gyouten braced himself for the endless darkness that promised to follow. It was only when his partner's eyes widened, and a spray of red splattered the floor, and his glasses, did he realise that he was the one holding the knife.

Clutching weakly at his throat, the other boy fell back. Blood poured at an impossible rate from the wound, Kensuke choking out noises that seemed in no way human. His eyes were cleared of the fear-driven haze, though, and his gaze met his murderer's with clarity, though no trace of anger.

It was Gyouten who's eyes had deadened. He watched numbly, as though from another's body as his partner thrashed and cried, his movements slowing to a twitch, and then to stillness. He'd lost the ability to move, or think, as the pictures flew through his mind without ever really registering. What little colour he had drained from his face, and his bloodied hands trembled. There was nothing dignified, or peaceful about the other boy now. He was soaked in red, it pooled beneath him, and still dripped lamely from the wound, his position awkward.

"Misao, this is where you come in, hmm?"

"Winner...Ume Gyouten." The man's voice was strained. Not the kage, or the teacher, but a third man. There was a whoosh of air and a thud as the man hopped from the raised area, dropping to the ground, and approached the body Gyouten no longer felt at home in.

He was young, perhaps in his late twenties, and crossed the boy's line of vision without ever really meeting his eye. He stooped, and with a ginger sort of care, scooped up the bloodied, eleven-year-old body from the ground, his mouth set in a thin line. "Follow me." He instructed. There was something peculiar in his tone, but the living boy... the genin... paid it no notice. Where a white-blond, green eyed man stood, Gyouten saw only a ghost. An empty shell with no real value. Just as the corpse he held was empty.

He stood, swaying feebly before taking an uncertain step forward. The body that was no longer his own followed to a locked doorway hidden in a shadowed corner of the room. He trailed after, unconscious of the door as it swung shut, clipping his shoulder. His eyes followed the man's movements listlessly as he knelt, and set the body- His partner's body, his _**friend's**_- down in a corner. Leaving room for more...

"H-here..." The man stumbled with the words as he offered the prize that Gyouten had wanted so badly mere minutes earlier. He accepted it, unblinking, and stared at his lifeless reflection in the polished metal surface. This hitai-ate had cost his dearest friend's life.

Kensuke had died for a lousy bit of metal and cloth.

Gyouten turned, and catching sight of an open doorway at the room's other end, took of at a sprint, falling to his knees the second he tasted the fresh, misty air, and vomited.

He didn't cry though. No, never. It seemed a token gesture in retrospect. It was a sin amongst Shinobi, and given the price his life as a ninja had run, to tarnish his honour so quickly was a grave insult to his departed companion.

His stupor remained, and he wandered aimlessly for what felt like an eternity. Lost, and uncaring, he drifted through the ghostlike birches nestled snugly together in the fog. A fallen log offered his weary bones a place to rest, and he sat there, the lakeside scene's familiarity set in, and his stomach lurched grimly again.

He was dead. He'd killed him... He was dead...

Hirumae's cloud had claimed him as well. It all made sense now. The look in his dearest sibling's eyes, the warnings... Junmaru's cold madness. It was as though his heart had been torn out, and left on the exam chamber floor. There was a numb, gaping hole where sadness should have been. The tightness in his chest, and tremor in his hands was too ambiguous to be called real sorrow. It was a simply a nameless _**lack. **_

Hours passed, and the light filtering through the forest faded. He stated as he was, unmoving, hands still clenching the bloodstained mark of his adulthood, the stupid mess of fabric and steel that he'd sold his soul for.

He was oblivious to the rustling in the foliage, and the snapping of dead leaves and branches underfoot, but the sweet, gentle voice he'd grown to love so dearly did the impossible. It stirred the heart he thought he'd lost, and Yuu gasped, and ran to his side, her dark, kind eyes widened in horror as she took in his appearance. "Gyouten kun, what's happened? Are you alright? Please, say something!" She sat down next to the eleven year old, and threw her arms around his shoulders. "Where is Kensuke kun?"

"Kensuke is..." He wrapped his free arm around her back, voice a hoarse whisper. "Kensuke is dead."

Yuu pulled back to gape at him, before her eyes welled over with tears, and she pulled him even closer. "Oh Gyouten Kun!" She sobbed into his shoulder. "What happened? What killed him?"

The fair genin hesitated before answering, his voice unable to follow through with the words his lips had formed. "I did."

But that was untrue. He was a ninja, and ninja do as they're told. He was acting on orders, and were it not for those, their waltz would be intact, and not the unsound two beat cadence they'd been reduced to. The rest was painful, and a gaping hole plagued on the melody. A hole Kensuke filled perfectly.

Gyouten buried his face in Yuu's dark hair, and his knuckles, already white, tightened their grip on his forehead protector. He wasn't alone. There was another corporeal form wandering the vast world of spectres he'd doubted he'd ever be able to leave completely, and he clung to her as if for dear life itself. Dear life that he no longer held dear. He'd seen the price of human life, today. A Shinobi's life, at least.

Nothing.

They were their kage's possessions, worthless tools to fight, live and die at his fancy. His feelings held no weight, his soul no value outside of his strength. But Yuu was different. Yuu was no tool; a human being, permitted to cry, and mourn, and _**feel**_ Kensuke's loss. It was that man's fault Kensuke was dead. That man's fault that his heart was closed to the world outside of their three beat measure, now reduced to two.

It was his fault Yuu was crying.

And for that, Ume Gyouten would not rest until Rokudaime Mizukage had breathed his last.

_vvvvvvvvvvv_

It was a very empty place he came home to.

A creaking floorboard, and no reply as he pushed his way inside, creeping as though an intruder, with the soundless steps training had forced to be his standard. Deeming the place abandoned, for the moment, he relaxed, poking around the small cabin he, or someone very much like him, had once called home. Dusty bookshelves and moth eaten furniture welcomed him, as he strode around them cramped rooms that had once had to accommodate a family of four. The bedroom he and his brother had occasionally had to share was tiny, and still littered with the few old books, and broken toys they'd shared, and deserted.

"If you're looking for Okaa San, she's not here."

He turned, jumping at the sudden apparition in the doorway, a noiseless approach marking him as Shinobi. Hirumae hesitated, leaning against the wall, eyeing him blankly. One deadened set of blue eyes met another, and Gyouten sat down on the bed he'd long since outgrown, his brother taking a seat next to him. A kind of understanding passed between the two, and a curt nod conveyed all Gyouten could possibly have said about his years training, and they remained in silence together, under the rain cloud they now shared.

"Where is she?"

"Dead."

The pale boy's gaze drifted downwards in thought, as he sympathized for a child who lived only, to the outside world, in memory. He'd lost no mother; he had no mother. The ninja seated on Ume Gyouten's bed had been born from murder, as all ninja were born. There was a small quiver of something though, a sympathy for a now orphaned innocent who'd ceased to exist.

"How?"

"Attacked by a nuke-nin, who was trying to flee the village. She got in his way inadvertently, so he stabbed her."

"Oh." This troubled the young ninja. "That's despicable, a shinobi attacking a civilian."

His brother scoffed, leaning back lazily against the small bunk. "It happens all the time. Mizukage sama just doesn't want us hearing about it. It could have been worse, some do more than stab."

A noncommittal sigh, and the younger stood. "Mizukage Sama..." He hissed, with a bitter little grin. "Excuse me for not thinking too highly of our Kage anymore. Despite what father may have believed."

"You too?" The other sat up quite suddenly, blinking.

"What?"

The younger man brushed a lock of dark hair from his eyes, and lowered his tone. "There are... quite a few of us. We meet every so often... plan... Our leader's really strong. He's got everything figured out. He's promised to make life more bearable for the trainees..."

"You're talking about another uprising." His tone was flat, and more of a general statement than inquiry. His sibling nodded, and Gyouten bit his lip. The many coups that shook their country's people and policies were costly, and many lost their lives. It'd be an incredible danger... but he remembered his promise to himself, and returned the nod resolutely. "When can I join?"

* * *

XD So. The origins of Gyouten's reputation as a traitor. And oh my god, a young Misao xDD

Something... odd... about Kensuke and Junmaru xDDD I hope that either it makes sense, or makes no sense at all xDD I'm afraid it may seem terribly corny.

Anyways. I'll finish with the second half as soon as I can. n.n Thank you for reading. Please review, and have an awesome day 8D


	6. Questioning

Ok, XD I did this in like, an hour. It's 3 AM, I'm half asleep, and I'm sure this sucks XDD anyways. I did this for "Questioning" one of the 100 themes on DA. Here we have Kotone acting a little OOC (or more in character than usual, depending how you look at it) It's just supposed to be cute XD;;

I'm going to say 'no' for fic spoilers, because like... XD the only spoiler-ey thing is kinda obvious XD I have no idea what to put for 'canon' either. This is one of those ones that could happen, and may have, but like, I didn't **_definitely. _**If that makes any sense XD Like the thing with Gyouten, and everything in 'sutego' totally happened, in the fic. anyways XD I'm rambling. Bedtime for Renren; she's not making any sense.

Anyways XD my brain's not working quite right, a fact proven by my writing this and uploading it so impulsively XDD So this is totally unbetad, and I appologize for the many mistakes that must be present.

Thank you for reading, please enjoy!

Disclaimer: Naruto Belongs to Kishimoto Masashi

Title: Questioning

Genre: General

Warnings: None

Canon: Yes

Fic Spoilers: No

Setting: Pre series (6 years), Kirigakure no Sato

Summary: Done for the100 themes on DA. Kotone has a rather unusual inquiry that only Haku can really answer for her...

* * *

"H-haku kun?"

The boy looked up from his contented seat on the dull wooden flooring, setting down the thin paperback he'd been pouring over for the better part of the evening. Zabuza San had gone out of his way to pick up something to entertain him on his last mission, and he felt he owed it to his sensei to make good use of his present. They could only buy books out of town; both his current... care givers, he could call them, were virtually illiterate, and buying any sort of reading material would be far to suspicious.

She's practically stuttered, and that was not a behavior he'd ever observed in the kunoichi. His deep brown eyes widened at her tone; there was just something about hearing something at least twice his size speak so tentatively. From where he sat, she looked to be a giant. She and Zabuza san always seemed that way.

Haku's mother had been short in stature, as he was, and Kotone San dwarfed her by at least a full head; Zabuza San was taller still. But that wasn't it. It was a presence the jonin had, that exceeded physicality. Like strength occupied place in the room, apart from their own forms. They made him feel small in comparison.

Kotone San was shifting nervously, transferring her weight from one bared foot to the other, and she was looking down at him with an odd sort of indecision. Haku yawned, covering his mouth hastily to quell any appearance of disinterest; he was surprised when she echoed the deep, slowed, involuntary intake of air, also shielding her open mouth with a hand marked by scars Zabuza San refused to explain.

His weariness weighed heavily on his eyelids, which he rubbed with a small fist. Night had fallen long ago, and Zabuza San had yet to return home. He knew he would soon have to give up waiting, and go to bed, but he liked to be there when his Sensei came back and Kotone San had seen no problem in letting him. She always waited.

She'd explained that if she heard the door opening in the middle of the night, and it woke her, she'd panic. Haku had simply smiled, and nodded in agreement with his surrogate teacher's flimsy excuse. Zabuza San always stressed the importance of questioning anything and everything an enemy (because as much as he liked the kunoichi, Zabuza San said she was a threat, and Haku believed him wholeheartedly) said, and did; to see through fallacies. Kotone San had forgotten to take something into account; Zabuza San was completely silent. If he wanted to sneak into the house without waking her, there was no doubt in the ten year old's mind that he could do it. So she had to have another reason for waiting.

Haku liked that reason better.

She shook her head quite suddenly, seeming to talk something over with herself under her breath. He inclined his head, watching the woman intently, as her ponytail swished back and forth with each small movement. "Never mind. It was stupid." She still didn't sound quite like herself. "I can't ask you that..." Quiet again; speaking to herself, more. "Sorry..." She glanced back at him, arms tucked closely to herself, one hand held her elbow and the other was clenched and held to pale lips. She bit at a knuckle almost timidly.

He noted all this, and stored it away. Zabuza San always asked about these things. Kotone San was an opponent, in a sense, and though she was able to keep every facial and bodily expression in check in the presence of other ninja, Zabuza San included, she was typically more relaxed around himself.

Hesitantly, the young woman plunked down to the floor with him, and sat a short ways off. She avoided his eyes, fidgeting slightly, and seeming to work up the nerve to continue with whatever it was she had been about to say. He sat up a bit straighter and smiled, hoping it would encourage her. Her pale eyes flickered towards him at the movement, and she grimaced. "Haku Kun..." Kotone San's voice had dropped from it's usual clear, sharp confidence to a weak, nearly inaudible whisper.

Her eyes, downcast, dropped to the floor as she traced the swirling patterns in the rough wooden planks with a sharp nail. There was another breath that might have led to speaking, but she grimaced, and the words died on her tongue. She ducked her head a little when she finally dared to meet his eye; embarrassment made her expression almost childish; and took a final uneasy glance over her shoulder to ensure they were alone.

He pictured her like a uneasy kitten: curled tight to seem tiny, ears flattened humbly against it's head. "What..." She practically mouthed the words.

Haku didn't feel quite so small anymore.

"...What's it like having a mom?"

* * *

That might be the shortest thing I've ever written. XD that's sad; I don't know when to shut up.

Anyways! thank you for reading, please review, and have a nice day! ILU XD


	7. Sweet dreams

Just something that popped into my head XD;; It's weird, I'm sorry. Anyways, just as a little note, Kotone's behaviour in the second dream is based on these case studies of isolates (Children who weren't socialized in**_ any_** way) that we looked at in my Social sciences class.

Disclaimer: Naruto Belongs to Kishimoto Masashi

Title: Faux Pas

Genre: Angstey stuff XD

Warnings: violence

Canon: Yes

Fic Spoilers: No (none for Breathe again, but alot for the rest of Asayuu, if I ever finish it XD)

Setting: Pre series (24.5 years), Kirigakure no Sato

Summary: All shinobi have nightmamres... but since becoming a father, Ume Gyouten's are getting a little strange.

* * *

It was normal, he imagined, for a new father with no idea what he was doing to have the odd nightmare.

He supposed the first ones were rooted in his own inability to mother: the instincts and...shall we say, 'equipment' he lacked..

Gyouten never dreamed of places- or at least he never remembered them when he awoke. The events that occurred behind his closed eyes seemed to happen nowhere; a black, endless limbo that may have simply been his forgetfulness upon awakening. But he was somewhere, and she wouldn't stop screaming.

She'd cry, and flail, and whimper, and however much he soothed, or rocked her on his shoulder, or danced that stupid little dinosaur in front of her face, she refused to quiet. He supposed it was the length of the dream, and the inescapable desperation that crept into him much to quickly that made it a nightmare. Besides that, it was an awful lot like being awake.

They began to change. Another vision began to creep in to the dark place as she grew. She was older, now, and perhaps four or five. She was small still, and a childlike plumpness rounded her hands, and knees. Besides that, he never could never quite recall how she had looked; he simply knew it was her.

She was staring at her favorite toy the same way she did in the real world- a world he forgot existed while he was here- and turned it in her hands. Her eyes were blank, and unfocused when he knelt next to her, and she made no sign of noticing as he called her name. He reached out; hand a brilliant pale in the darkness, and lay his hand on the dreamed-child that was not yet his Kotone's shoulder. She yelped; an animal's yelp, more akin to kittens yowling than girlish screams; and pulled away; scampering in an odd, hopping half crawl; and curling in a corner (how there could be a corner in the void, he didn't know) and sobbed and screeched, curled in a little ball. Because, he somehow knew, that was all she could do.

She'd never learned to walk, never learned to speak... She'd never learned that she was alive, and the dinosaur wasn't... Never learned that sundown means bedtime, or what chopsticks were for, or to recognize herself as human being, let alone recognize her father.

Her body had grown, but her mind had faded. She was stuck in her own little world, where nothing made sense, and communication was impossible: because he had failed to teach her. He hadn't played doctor, or ninja with her as his brother had with him, way back when his heart had a beat, and his eyes were unclouded. He hadn't taught her about the world as his father had taught him. Hadn't held her, or sang to her as his mother used to do.

He'd ignored her, and shunned her... all to keep her from loving him, or caring, or developing a heart that would break if she survived the genin exam she'd been born to take-or that would cause her to hesitate, and be killed by one who hadn't; the one she'd loved dearest, and would trust above all others as her partner.

This, surprisingly, left him unshaken when he opened his eyes. If she grew up damaged, she'd be safe from the fate her parentage assigned her. And though it would be to late if this one dream became a reality; with the threat of the academy gone, he could finally attempt to give his daughter the love, and attention she deserved. Though she wouldn't understand, and he wasn't sure he knew how. He would try.

His dreams remedied this optimism.

He saw the same shell of a child, screaming and growling as she was dragged from his doorway by two jonin: one who had come for him when he was required to go, and another man he may have handed a report to that morning. She belonged to the village, and she was to go with them. Her body was adequate, and they cared nothing for her mind. He received the note an instant that he knew to bet two days later.

She'd been beaten for 'ignoring' her sensei, and had died soon after.

His nerves irk him for a few moments upon feeling the pillow beneath his head once more; fingers clenching the sheets a bit too tight. His fears were unfounded, and he reminded himself of this. From a developmental point of view, his daughter was on track. His dearest's death had caused Kotone to be born much too soon, and he'd been told to expect a while before she caught up to other children her age in some regards. She was attempting to crawl, and babbled and chattered, though nothing resembled words at all.

But above all else, she knew who he was; there was no question. Her eyes lit up when he entered her little room, that had once been his, and she reached out with her stubby little fingers to grasp at his hand, or smudge his glasses, or pull his hair- anything to make a nuisance of herself. She wept and wailed when he left her alone, and gods all forbid he let someone else hold her. He'd handed her to a kunoichi he recognized who'd offered to free his arms while he took something off a high store shelf. Kotone had screamed and cried until her father took her back into his arms again.

And so, with her mental well being assured...at least until he was forced to surrender her to Mizukage Sama... his mind had to find other ways to torment him at night. It succeeded.

He thought it was Yuu at first. It looked like her... but she had his own cold blue eyes, and taken on his pallor. No... The young woman walking, though never really moving in the abyss of his dream was paler than he was... sickly...And growing more so by the second.

The girl he now recognized as his daughter faltered. Dark circles stood out under her eyes against ashen skin, as she hunched her shoulders, and raised a hand to her mouth. Her back shook with each deep, racking cough, and her hand came away dripping blood.

The scene was far to familiar, as she hacked, and gasped; sinking to her knees as she clutched at her throat, continuing to expel the sticky red fluid, growing weaker and paler as she did, skin losing it's human color and becoming a gray- blue around the lips and fingernails as her lungs failed her, as they'd failed her mother. The girl wheezed and screeched through her closing throat, clawing at the throat and chest that failed to breathe for her, as her mother had so few months ago. And she stopped slowly; eyes rolling back as she sunk to the floor that wasn't there, lifeless.

He wanted to run, help her: do something, say something. But he remained dumb, and rooted to the spot.

Then quite suddenly, he was freed. With a scream, and a sudden surge of movement, he was running...but not really moving. And the dead girl sprawled on the floor was walking again, as though nothing had happened.

She shot him an icy glance over one shoulder- apparently displeased with his outburst- and kept walking. This one was different, somehow, besides the Kirigakure Hitai ate she wore. Her walk was more graceful, and he knew, had there been any substance to this empty world his dream had made, that she would have been dead silent, and left virtually no trail. This one was shinobi.

It appeared from nowhere- A flash of silver, and she was thrown to the side. Blood poured again; this time from the gash the kunai had left in her side, and he was again left helpless and mute.

Her attacker- who he barely recognized as a ninja from Iwagakure he had disposed of _**years **_ago- pounced before she had time to recover, and another kunai split the skin of her throat. She screamed in agony, the sound shaking and raspy with the wound's interference. The apparently unsatisfied assailant kicked at her, and she let out another cry of pain as she was sent tumbling by a kick to the ribs.

The cries of horror stuck in his mouth, and his body was screaming to run- to save her. Because he was her father, and he was supposed to protect her, and he couldn't, and...

The man grabbed the near dead kunoichi by her torn throat, and raised her until their eye levels met. Her body hung lifelessly in his grip, and he smirked; tossing her through the empty space until she collided with something solid.

He'd long since given up wondering how a wall could exist here.

And then he was running again, finally dropping to a halt beside the body- because that was all it could be, now. He saw the blood pouring from beneath the overturned girl, the awkward angle of her broken neck, and the one glassy eye the tilt of her head let him see.

His hands shook as he looked for a second time upon his dead daughter, reaching out to turn her over again, and hold her close. That was all he could do, now, though it was far too late for embraces. There was no doubt what he'd see when he looked in her face, all dead bodies looked the same; he knew that all too well. Mouth open lamely, throat cut... Dead like Kensuke...Dead like Junmaru.

And then, as he grasped her shoulders, and moved to bring her to face him, his breath caught in his throat that had no right to be intact when her's wasn't, and-

He fell awake.

He wasted no time in steadying his breath, or calming his pulse. He fumbled blindly for the glass and wire he needed to make sense of the blurs that were the waking world, and started down the hallway.

Their home was small, and it took no time to reach her room. Her crib was really nothing more than a glorified box with a tiny mattress and blankets in it but she didn't know, or mind. It was warm, and she was fast asleep - she'd woken up crying earlier that night, though- curled next to that stupid little dinosaur toy she loved so.

Safe, sound, and breathing.

He bent over the makeshift bed - she'd outgrow it, and be able to use the small one in the room he'd used for years, as they hadn't the money for something so temporary- and removed her from it, holding her to his chest against his shoulder.

She'd wake up, wouldn't be able to sleep, and he'd be up all night, but at the moment, that didn't matter. He needed to feel that tiny little heartbeat, and feel her move, and know she was alright. He bounced slightly, taking odd, lumbering steps around the room, to try and lull her back to sleep if she woke; which she did.

She yawned beside his ear, and slowly, sleepily and clumsily, turned her head to look at him.

Her mother's blood held one curse, and her father's another: Her illness, and his duty. It was only a question of which caught up to her first.

And then, the doomed child he'd been unforgivably selfish to even bring into this world- oblivious to her fate and the twin threats that awaited her- gurgled gleefully, and left a baby sized hand print on her father's glasses.

* * *

So yeah... Just me being random. A little look at the nice guy Gyouten tried really hard to pretend he wasn't XDDD

I HAD a death all picked out for Kotone, but then the manga made that impossible XDD So it might actually come down to the disease her mother had. I'm still not sure. Seems a bit too Kimimaro-ish.

Anywaaaay n.n Thank you for reading, please review, and have a great day :3


	8. Demon cubs

I'm reallt sorry XD;; this is so weird. This started as chapter 33, (so that conversation she has with Haku is going to be recycled into the fic XD) but soon developed a mind of its own. It, as my friend Mina put it, exploded into this pervy crack thing.

I really don't know. I mean, she's nineteen here, and has been living with someone she's more than a little bit fond of (and by that I totally mean loves XD) for thirteen years. It's plausible that she'd think about...stuff... right? And save the fondness, he might as well? XD;;; I'll stop trying to justify this crap XDD

Please don't hate me XD;;; This was supposed to be funny, but... Augh, I don't know XD;;

(Ok, I've had to redo the author's note three times XD;; It was better the first two times, I'm sorry D':)

Title: Demon cubs

Genre: Crack

Warnings: No lemons or anything, but some mature-ish stuff XD

Canon: No

Fic Spoilers: Not really

Setting: Pre series (6 years), Kirigakure no Sato

Summary: She groaned, burying her face in her hands dejectedly. Why was it that all her hypothetical children had ashen skin and sharp teeth?

* * *

"I don't like it." The lioness mumbled around a dripping chunk of newly killed meat. "It's not normal; it's not _**natural**_." She batted at the corpse with a massive, sandy coloured paw; the dead bandit's body, picked clean of most of its flesh, flopped this way and that miserably.

"I know, I know," The kunoichi sighed, tucking the mask away in the front of her yukata. The mission had been completed; she didn't need it right now. Hikyuu had killed these men; Kotone was simply feeding her four legged subordinates. The mission had been something of a waste of time- the supposed 'enemy ninja' spotted by the locals were simply a group of thugs from the southern coast. "But you can't eat it all. We're supposed to make a mess- you know, as a warning to anyone else who might get any ideas." They hadn't been shinobi, so disposing of their corpses completely wasn't necessary. Menou had taken a hand, and scurried back to their home with his prize, disappearing in a gleeful cloud of smoke.

"That's not what I mean." Kogane was unusually surly. She was generally happy when fed. Hisui gave her a disparaging look over the remains of another man's torso she was gorging on. Like Kogane, blood and gore clung to her muzzle, and she licked her bloodstained fur with a satisfied puff of air. The snow was splattered red all around the clearing; bones and bits of muscle and organs strewn similarly. Kotone nodded, as this seemed an adequate deterrent, and signaled their departure. The two felines exchanged despondent glances, before plodding silently through the thick snow, Kogane turning her head to stare wantonly at the unfinished carcasses.

She gave up with a sigh, and hunched her shoulders. "It's that _**cub**_." The lioness's snout scrunched up in distaste.

"What about him?" The 'leopardess' folded her hands behind her head, the genuine leopardess eyeing her larger companion from their human's other side.

"Well... he's not yours!"

Hisui snorted. "I thought lions raised cubs communally?"

"Well_** yes**_," The lioness's tone was indignant; as though she was explaining something very simple to someone very slow. "But what kind of_** male**_ raises another male's cub? It's eerie. You just don't do it." She hissed, and hacked in what was either disgust or a hairball.

"Ah, I forgot. Your males habitually _**eat **_other males' cubs."

"Can it pipsqueak!"

Kogane had bared her teeth, and roared in earnest, and Kotone felt it best to calm them down before a fight broke out. "Friends, friends! Let's not draw attention to ourselves this way." She cajoled, relaxing a notch when they snorted and stepped away from one another.

"But honestly? Why would any rational male care for a strange cub when he can father his own? Unless..." The leaner cat cocked her head to the side as an odd look crossed the sturdier one's face. "Unless he_** can't**_ father cubs? In that case, Kotone, you'd better find yourself another mate."

"It's not _**that**_," She felt perhaps that answering at all- let alone blurted like she had- was, in retrospect an awful idea. "Not that I'd _**know,**_ of course...I...I...well..." The little mountain villages, like the one she found herself outside of now, were made cold by the elevation, and the icy wind whirled helpless snowflakes through the clearing; from the grey sky to the now bloodied ground; however, despite the chill in the air, her face had begun to grow unusually warm. Her face twitched between different expressions, accepting and discarding them as the words she mouthed were also scrapped before they were given sound.

There was no way she was going to continue a conversation that had her speculating as to the working function of her partner's... Well, his ability to reproduce.

"Why haven't you and he had cubs yet, Kotone san?" Hisui's tone was a great deal more polite; her's was a genuine interest rather than criticism, but it still made her insides flop a little. "You've been ready for a long while now." She hadn't thought it was possible, but her face burned warmer still when the black cat's nose bumped against Kotone's bellybutton; as if there was some need to clarify what she had meant by 'ready.'

She grit her teeth and ignored the temptation to simply pass out- her head felt funny, and it was taking much longer than normal to process her thoughts into something even remotely coherent- and pretend like the discussion had never happened. But, Kogane and Hisui were not human. Their thoughts, and priorities were much different from her own, and so there was no hesitance, or embarrassment in this discussion for them. She should at least set the record straight; they seem to have gotten the wrong idea.

"Zabuza isn't... interested, in cubs of his own," She explained, struggling to keep her thoughts in line. The next few words, however, came much more easily. "Especially not with me."

"That can't be true." Hisui assured; _**comforted. **_There was nothing to comfort, Kotone warranted herself sorely: she _**wasn't**_ upset. "You're strong, healthy... As is he. What's the problem? You'd have fine young. And you'd raise them well... you take very good care of that other cub."

Kotone floundered for a response to that. Thankfully, it was about then that Kogane decided that she'd had just about enough of the snow, and deserted her, with a quick goodbye. Unbelievebly grateful, and thanking whatever kind god had made lions dislike the cold, she told Hisui that she would be alright on her own from her, thanked her, and the leopardess also took her leave.

The kunoichi stayed stationary for a long, dragging moment, as she actually tried to make sense of the last few minutes. She turned, bolted to the edge of the clearing, and pressed her still burning face into the heart of the nearest snowbank.

It didn't help.

_vvvvvvvv_

The attack of the flooded face-blood-vessels died down and ceased as she made her way home. She'd calmed down, and as she stepped inside her home- the prospect of a hot shower, and some rest was simply too lovely to resist after a boring day of fighting weaklings- found the living room mostly empty.

Haku was seated, cross legged on the floor between the couch and the kitchen, staring intently at a glass of water that no longer resided in it's glass. Instead, between his hands, it danced and writhed, like liquid glass; invisible save what it did to the now warped-looking space behind it. He closed his eyes, and the droplets of water stuck more tightly together forming a nearly smooth ball. He'd flinch as a splash got away from him, and then finally released the breath he'd been holding as it fell neatly back to the cup.

"You're getting good at that," He noticed her presence about the same time as she chose to speak, and looked up at her wide eyed. He relaxed, and smiled sheepishly as he saw the genuine admiration in her expression. "How do you do that?" She asked, stealing closer to sit beside.

Haku watched the water carefully as he thought. "I'm not sure how to describe it." He admitted. "I simply... can. I want to. I'm so glad that I can now, as long as no one but you and Zabuza San see." He smiled fondly turning to her. "It's like... how you know your left from your right, or how a bird knows it can fly, or how you know to breathe. You just...do."

Kotone nodded slowly, knowing she couldn't really understand. Only another bloodline user really could.

His head turned, and she looked up as the door to Zabuza's room opened. Of course he knew she was home as soon as she'd started talking, there was no way he hadn't heard. She stood, opened her mouth to speak a greeting, and stopped dead as a certain conversation a while earlier burrowed back into her thoughts.

It was late, and he had apparently given up on doing anything else productive today. She really hated him right now: she hated his voice, and his eyes, and she _**especially **_hated his habit of going to bed shirtless.

She took a moment to hate _**herself**_ for being stupid enough to put 'Zabuza' 'bed' and 'shirtless' in the same sentence.

She now knew what those metaphorical stomach-butterflies people always spoke of felt like.

He wore his bandages too, though. She wasn't sure if she hated that. It occurred to her with a dull pang of something unpleasant that it took her a moment longer than usual to remember what his face actually looked like.

He too stopped; his expression, and presumably what he meant to say, changing. His brow furrowed, and he took a step forward. "Are you sick?"

"What?" The butterflies were an incredibly unwanted distraction. Though 'fluttering' as she'd heard them described wasn't a very accurate account of the sensation. As far as she could tell, there were little winged insects sparring in her chest cavity. She suppressed a whimper.

"You look a bit flushed." He explained simply, striding closer. "And you have this really stupid look on your face."

He was right, she was being a idiot. She grit her teeth, and shook her head, resolved to keep herself together. "I'm fine." She scowled when he approached again. "I said I was _**fine**_."

"Yes, but you often lie." He'd backed her against the sofa, and as she leaned away, practically pinned her to it. "I'm not about to let you go back out into the snow if you're getting sick. Because then you'll get sicker, and I'll have to look after you. I have more important things to be doing." One hand rested on her forehead, then slipped to her left cheek. That would be when her brain shut down, and her knees nearly buckled. "Damnit, you _**are**_ warm," he scolded.

If butterflies all fought like the ones trapped by her rib cage, she never wanted to be set against one. And here she was being stupid again. Kotone took a moment to ground herself, and remember exactly how much this man hated her. She pushed his hand away, and slipped out from his grasp, taking her mask from the front of her Yukata, and securing it over her face. _**That **_made everything better.

As she headed to the door with a calm explanation, she found it much easier to think with Hikyuu's borrowed face. She had work to do, prisoners to torment.

It made sense of course, that she'd feel awkward seeing him now, after Kogane and Hisui had put such ridiculous thoughts in her head.

Not that they were entirely ridiculous... She'd never really thought of children before, but looking after Haku was... nice. She was happy, and he seemed to be. She supposed... that one day, perhaps she _**would **_like to have little ones of her own. She smiled at the thought...

Her stomach dropped lower into her abdomen, and the butterflies resumed their grappling, as something occurred to her, as she tried tp picture it. She groaned, burying her face in her hands dejectedly.

Why was it that all her hypothetical children had ashen skin and sharp teeth?

_vvvvvvvvv_

"Mizukage Sama?"

She recognized the vaguely irritated glance, as he looked up from the files she'd handed in. 'What are you still doing here?' Said his eyes, but she'd already damned herself by beginning to speak. It was a stupid, stupid question, but it might finally put the nagging thoughts to rest... She took a deep breath, and set her nerve.

"Mizukage Sama, am I allowed to have cubs?" She cringed, and shook her head. "I mean-children? Not now, of course." She added hastily, noting his expression.

"Hm... you're nearly twenty, yes?" He folded his hands, and looked her up and down pensively. "Ten years more service, and... yes, it's not totally out of the question. Kunoichi become so useless once they're mothers." He mused with a sigh. "I'd hate for you to lose your edge anytime soon. Thirty should be enough time- you'll have long since hit your stride by then, I'd imagine. If you're still alive, that is."

"Thank you sir." She said with a nod, not sure if she felt better or worse about the whole thing now.

"Oh, it only makes sense." He replied matter of factly. "You're one of our best kunoichis, without a doubt. Strong children no doubt too... Pity about your eyesight though." He made a face as he noted the flaw...or at least she thought he did, he was a tad blurry from where she stood. But then his voice grew graver, and he leaned forward in his seat. "Of course... this would depend entirely on the man. Who _**exactly **_is your intended?" A dangerous question.

"I..." By all the gods, there were those stupid butterflies again. "I hadn't really given that any thought," she lied. With a shrug, she named someone from the interrogators division experimentally. He responded with an accepting sort of indifference, so she pushed further. "Nezumi Hatsuka?" She tried.

"I suppose that would- no, no. No good." He shook his head. "Two summoning contracts in the family."

Another few names- it occurred to her that she really knew a lamentably few people- each getting more ridiculous, and the atmosphere accordingly light as she progressed. When she finally found herself offering "What about Raiga?" with a joking smile, his light grin dropped.

"I see you're getting closer to the _**real**_ question here, Kotone. Go on. Ask."

"Momochi Zabuza...?"

"Absolutely not."

She'd been expecting it, really she had. Still though, it sent the butterflies scattering, and she found herself blurting out an ill advised "Why?" before she could think better of it.

"Because." He replied calmly. "Your talents are far too similar. Taijutsu with a secondary ability in Suiton ninjutsu, and Suiton ninjutsu with good taijutsu skills to back it up. Any potential offspring would most likely be limited in the field of Genjutsu. We have no medical records concerning Kijin before his entry into the academy- and I believe there's the issue of hereditary illness in yours? Any children the two of you produced could be unsound in matters of health." He rested his chin on the back of his hand as he stood his elbow on the desk's surface. "And then there's the matter of _**temperament**_." He muttered through his teeth. "I simply could not allow it."

Kotone nodded again, eyes not focused primarily on the lines separating the floor tiles. "I understand."

"Someone with a greater talent in genjutsu would be more appropriate," The kage continued. "Someone with a family, who could care for your children while you were on missions- that's the other concern with Momochi, one of you would need to be in the village at all times- I was thinking more along the lines of Kasumi Hiraku for _**you**_, Kotone chan."

Her stomach lurched, and there were no butterflies to blame. _**Hiraku?**_ He was nice, she'd admit but... he was Hiraku.

"Not that anything's decided!" The water shadow said with a chuckle. "I hadn't given it much thought either."

Madara sighed to himself. There was that rebellious streak through the Ume line, and while it seemed to have missed the last person with that blood in her veins, there was no way he'd risk combining it with over-ambitious Momochi's traitorous disposition. Besides, if the 'demon' kept on the way he was, he hadn't much longer to live. The poor man actually thought he was being sneaky, didn't he?

Kotone bowed, and excused herself. This was good, right? It meant that she could finally stop Kogane and Hisui from pestering her about potential mating, and young. Those blue eyed, sharp toothed little children her imagination plagued her with were simply not possible. Mizukage Sama had expressibly forbid it, and so it couldn't be.

She tried very hard to convince herself that the feeling clawing at her now butterfly-free abdomen was relief, and not disappointment.

_vvvvvvvvvvv_

_Damn her_. Zabuza sighed, releasing his vice-grip on the back of the couch. He hated kunoichis, he really did. Especially that one. He hated those coy looks, and flustered giggles they were trained to fake so perfectly to put a man's thoughts in disarray.

And he really_**, really **_hated that it worked.

Just then... whenever it was she'd last sat a _**bit**_ too close to him on the couch...That night he chose to pretend never existed, when he'd first been accepted into the shinobigatana... every sparring match in recent memory...? It was some stupid plot against him, it had to be. Whenever they fought for practice, he'd eventually catch up to her, and it came down to grappling (as was inevitable when the fight went on for so long without one party killing the other) he would win. He always won, of course: they're skill at that sort of combat was equal, and it came down to strength; an area in which he the advantage. At least, that was mostly it.

He had observed that as soon as he had her pinned, she sort of froze; eyes wide, blinking too frequently, and passive despite her knowing at least _**a dozen **_different ways to reverse the hold. By all the gods did that annoy him; because it gave him time to actually realize the position he- they- were in, and it took him far longer than usual to remember that he had to end the fight.

All these little lapses in composure (He hadn't though it was even_** possible **_to fake blushing. Chakra to the face? Would that increase bloodflow? Augh- he didn't know) could very well be to lull him into some sense of false security. He'd nearly confided his plans to her on several occasions, and had her... he'd use the term 'affectionate'...behavior all been an act, it could very well have ended him.

He hated it, he hated her, and he hated himself for being taken in so easily...and so often.

"It's late- You should go to bed now." He informed the boy still seated on the floor. Haku nodded, and smiled, returning his near perfect ball of water to the glass, neatly. Zabuza let out a sharp, surly breath as he righted himself, heading for the bathroom, and adding an absent, "I'm going to take a shower."

"But Zabuza San," Haku inclined his head heedfully. "I just took a bath. There won't be any hot water left."

"That's fine." The other assured, before disappearing with a none too friendly slam of the door.

Now alone, a wicked smile pulled across the child's lips; he chuckled to himself, shaking his head. The adults must think he was stupid, didn't they? He was nearly _ten_ for heaven's sake- he'd gotten 'the talk' years ago.

"_When a man and a woman love each other very, very much..." _He suppressed another giggle as he skipped off to get his pajamas.

Just because he was an innocent little boy didn't mean he was oblivious to those who weren't.

* * *

Something I always found odd about the Nami no kuni arc. Kakashi referrs to Haku as "pure as snow" while Zabuza Calls him a "Sadistic little brat". Now, who would know him better? XDD I'm not saying that he's not a total sweetie, because he is n.n But that doesn't mean he hasn't got a little devious streak XDD

I aplologize for this again XD;; A big hug to anyone who's read it, and doesn't hate me now.

I ran this by a friend of mine before posting this, and she said: "... I have a feeling Zabuza might knock her up before he kicks the bucket. XD" And we were talking about it, and now I'm all sad that "canon" Kotone doesn't have any little demon babies D': If I were to write an AU kind of thing (I'd post it here, in Odds and ends XD) where said "knocking up" does occur, would you all hate me? XDDD

Anyways, thank you for reading, please don't hate me for this one, and have a nice day : D


	9. Comfort Zone

Cheshire, if you're reading this, I feel really bad XD;;; I finish this like, right after you come looking for it XD;;;; sorryyyyy ;m;

Yes. GaiKotone. As in Maito Gai/Ume Kotone. You read that right.

...I'm not really sure how to explain this XD;;;

The scary thing? I might like it better than ZabuzaKotone XD;;; I don't know. Anyways XD this isn't meant to be very serious, but it's less cracky than I'd planned. Very AU XD it occurs DIRECTLY after (well, it kinda replaces the ending of) a sequel I may or may not write.

**HERE THERE BE SPOILERS:** Basically, Sakura runs off to find Kotone (to learn the Kirigakure no justu, since it made the sharingan pretty much uselss and she figures that'll help them catch Sasuke...long story) and eventually Naoko kidnaps Ruri (Kotone's "student", my friend Jay's OC) and Naruto (don't ask XD;;) and Kakashi and Kotone kinda have to get their kids back. Kisame shows up, beats the crap out of Kotone, (She and Naoko had already nearly killed eachother anyways) and crushes her skull with his foot. yeah XD this takes it from there, but differently then the actual fic'd go.

Disclaimer: Naruto Belongs to Kishimoto Masashi

Title: Comfort Zone

Genre: Crack/romance

Warnings: strong Language

Canon: Yes

Fic Spoilers: YES.

Setting: Filler time, Konohagakure no sato

Summary: Kakashi had offered her student a place in Konohagakure if she were to die fighting Naoko. Kotone had never anticipated that the offer would be extended to herself as well. And that isn't the only thing that she hadn't anticipated... [GaiKotone AU crack]

* * *

There was laughter echoing in the ear not pressed to concrete.

She could see his approach from the corner of her eye. The odd gasping whimpers from the same direction indicating that he had gathered the other injured kunoichi in his arms; lovingly, no doubt. She was almost envious.

The kick that had sent her tumbling against the grainy, bloodstained ground had dislodged the needle closest to her skull, and she found her breathing came a bit easier. Not that it mattered a bit; her vision had blurred, and she knew the bleeding from the vital points and organs Naoko's senbon had pierced would end her soon enough.

He simply stood there. She could see the immense sandal, and nothing more from her angle: face down and sprawled awkwardly on her stomach, head turned to the side, hair disheveled and strands of it crisscrossed her view. Her already weak vision was being eaten away at the edges by blackness.

"Goodbye, Ume." The tone was formal; politely condescending, and she could picture the mocking grin on the other's face. She had infuriated him; it would not go unpunished. "Give the others my regards," he raised a massive foot, "when you see them in hell."

With that, he brought it crashing down and, with a sickening crack, drove his heel to her skull, and her skull to concrete.

And then everything went black.

- - - - - - - - -

Hell smelled a lot like disinfectant, and the fabled 'white light' at the tunnel's end was more fluorescent than anyone had ever mentioned.

Her eyes, which she hadn't opened consciously, were leaded and soon sank back to blind her. She bit her lip, and forced them back open. The world have become tangible again; she was no longer on her side, but her back, and there was something beneath her head. She pulled at one hand, and found it trapped. Another tug informed her that she was immobile by her current weakness, and not the strength of the restraints. Something was beeping steadily.

Her vision swam, a bleary mess of white and brightness and black, and finally settled. Her attention was drawn immediately to the most interesting thing in the otherwise eggshell space: the mass of glossy black towering above her. It was leather.

Her thoughts were still clouded by pain, and sleep, and whatever it was keeping her subdued and feeble. It took her longer than it should have to place the leather coat's inhabitant, and match it with a name.

If this was hell, Enma O looked an awful lot like Morino Ibiki.

Somehow, she wasn't surprised.

A window was open, but the curtains stayed stagnant in the quiet air. The curtains were liars: they boasted a green tint, but they were virtually colourless and paired the blank walls effortlessly in pallor. It was a bed she lay in; and she recognized the type, though this was like no hospital she recognized. It was bright, and aired; the sun streaming in through the window was burning the parts of her under the square of light it cast across the room. She always associated medics with the cold, dank infirmary she'd woken to more times than was recommended.

She sighed, and accepted the truth of her situation as her eyes rested upon the machine attached to her by one finger, and the steady, irritating chirp. She was alive; a dead person had no pulse, and so no need for a heart-rate monitor.

"So...this_** isn't **_hell?"

The man she now recognized as Ibiki stifled a bitter laugh. "What tipped you off?"

Kotone shrugged as best she could despite the straps keeping her arms pinned to the hospital bed at her sides, and the weakness in her muscles. The kunoichi observed the blurs of fuzzy people, too far for her eyes to discern properly, and enjoyed a mirthless smile of her own. "It can't be. I don't recognize anyone."

Her eyes flickered back to him as she struggled to at least appear lucid. She knew by now the invulnerable, confident- act was pointless, but clung to it anyways. "Save you, of course. So why aren't I dead?" She asked suspiciously, as she let out a deep breath, still struggling against heavy-lids and sedation. "So Hatake sold me out, then?" Ibiki said nothing. "I'm not sure what you're after, but whatever it is Morino san, you're wasting your time."

"Kakashi san didn't hand you over. We're still trying to determine if protocol was breached." His voice was cool; level. She smiled, recognizing the tone she had once, and still, employed so frequently. "He had disappeared for far too long. Another team was in the area; we sent another team to search for him and Uzumaki-kun."

"And they decided I should be.... what? Locked up? Killed?"

"We're not sure what to do with you yet; Godaime Sama hasn't quite decided." He paused, nose crinkling in distaste. "You're lucky Tsunade Hime has a soft spot for that Sakura kid. Those three have been arguing on your behalf quite adamantly. They've told us everything."

"Everything...?" The words sank heavily to the pit of her stomach. If they knew everything, they knew her... well, her weakness. The ones she'd confided in Sakura, and the ones Naoko had exploited. She sat up straighter, and with panic threatening to boil over, narrowed her eye at the other, and hissed. "Where is she?"

Ibiki grinned and Kotone kicked herself, remembering what it was like to be in his position, staring down a captive. By reacting at all, she'd given him what he'd wanted.

Naoko was right; she really _**was**_ losing her touch.

His smile didn't reach his eyes. "We're not sure what to do with her, either."

- - - - -

"Er... Well, that's all I know about it. Perhaps if Ruri chan was to tell you herself?" Naruto glanced to the other genin, expectantly.

Ruri shook her head.

"Come on! Why not? You wanna stay here, right?" Ruri shrugged, eying the assembled konoha nin warily. There were a few jonin gathered in the Hokage's office, crowded around where she, Sakura and Naruto stood beside the kage's desk. Their faces were not unkind, and they had listened to Naruto and Sakura's joint-effort to explain the former Mist genin and her Sensei's situation. Mentions of Ume Kotone tended to send a ripple of unease though the older ninja, her fate being undecided. However, they watched Ruri with no dislike, and seemed genuinely interested. The point had been made by Kakashi, who leaned against the back wall pretending to be engrossed in his book (he disproved several times throughout the odd little meeting by answering or interjecting a little too relevantly for someone not paying attention)that as Ruri had never commit any act against Konoha in Kirigakure's name, or any real illegal activity after defecting, she could not really be considered an enemy or a criminal.

He had agreed not to really participate in this odd little public "temporary student adoption." Ruri couldn't read his lips; having no idea what he was saying, his adding to the conversation would only make her nervous.

"I'm not talking in front of this many people." It took Naruto a second to process the whisper; Ruri had overshot the drop in volume a little.

Naruto grinned widely, clapping the older girl on the back. Her brows furrowed (as she was not entirely sure how to interpret this) but he paid no mind. "Don't worry, Ruri chan!" Naruto laughed. "No one'd laugh at you here." She raised a skeptical eyebrow and kept silent.

"Alright." Tsunade broke the still, folding her hands on her desk, and nodding decisively. "Given her age, and situation, I see no harm in her staying. If any of you would be willing to take on an extra student until a permanent team is found-"

A few jonin began to form words. A young woman, perhaps her companion's age, who had seemed particularly fond of her exchanged glances with a tall, bearded man beside her before moved to approach the Hokage's desk.

But before any of them could, a hand flew up from the back of the crowd.

The others stopped dead, turning to stare at the man now attempting to squeeze through the pack of ninja. They immediately gave him the necessary space, or, Ruri noted as the man became visible, they were perhaps fleeing.

"Tsunade hime," He began, gesturing dramatically with his fist. "I would be more than happy to-"

Ruri lost sight of his mouth movements (which were incredibly easy to read as he moved his mouth excessively...that man's facial expression sure changed a lot) to glance at the others. The woman with the thick black hair had shot look at the man with the beard that was a bit disappointed and a lot concerned. The others all appeared to have paled or grimaced; one red in the face from struggling to retain laughter. Sakura's face had frozen in a peculiar, horror-struck gaping, while Hatake beat his head steadily against the cover of his closed novel.

Only Naruto appeared enthused, and by the time she turned to look back at the very strange looking jonin, it was too late. She was picked up, and found herself crushed against green fabric by monstrously strong arms. Judging by the fact that no one was moving to help her, she could only assume that this was NOT meant as an attack, however much it felt like one. This, she decided, was probably some misguided attempt at a greeting. Was this how Konoha nin said hello? Gods all help her.

He was talking all the while; his chin was moving and it kept bumping the top of her head. He had apparently forgotten that she couldn't hear him.

Then, finally, the green thing set her down.

With one hand planted firmly in a fist on his hip, he grinned. There was something all together not... right with the thought of this man being a ninja. Perhaps it was the gigantic smile or exuberance, or legwarmers... something about this was very, very odd.

She jumped back suddenly as he moved, her hand instinctively attempting to redirect the oncoming attack with a block, the first that came to mind. The strength of the motion rendered her defense useless, but still it didn't connect. The green thing stared at her, head cocked to the side. She blinked in return, and examined the fist inches from her sunglasses.

What kind of idiot punched sideways...? With his_**thumb **_sticking out....?

Oh. She recognized the affirmative gesture. She'd never seen it at such a high velocity, and had no idea to what he was agreeing, but it was definitely some sort of a thumbs up.

His bewilderment became the stupid grin again. "Well done! Those are some reflexes you have there, haha!" She glanced back at Kakashi, still beating himself senseless with Icha Icha paradise in some odd sort of sympathy. Personally, she would have preferred the book bashing to the weirdo.

- - - - - -

"Stop glaring. We agreed: you'd be released from the hospital iiiif...?"

"...If I promised to behave myself. I know, I know. Fuck off." She hunched her shoulders, still struggling to hide her scarred hands in her sleeves, pitching a scathing glance in the copy nin's direction. "I don't like being out like this. I want my Katabira back.. And Kiyoshi...And... And my armrest."

"You know, maybe people wouldn't mind you so much if you stopped referring to people - your student, no less- by their supposed functions." She hissed at him. "And I assure you, she's in good hands."

Negotiating her refuge in the leaf village had been a nightmare. Hikyuu's crimes against the village hidden in the leaves were numerous and heinous in nature. However, Kakashi had perhaps let out a good natured comment in passing the kage about how she herself could, technically, be considered a missing ninja. She _**had**_ left the village without notice for an extended period of time...

Not that Kotone had made any effort to facilitate things for herself. She'd refused to share any information regarding her country. Nothing that could get its current inhabitants killed. Oddly, if anything, it was this that had earned Tsunade's approval, Sakura's pleas aside.

Ibiki had advised them to take several things into custody, however, if she was to be kept in line. As he had guessed; without her weapon, which had been won through her own strength; or her metal netting, which hid scars she felt proved weakness; she was definitely somewhat subdued, and eyed the passing crowd without her usual act of indifferent self-assurance. She was wary; nervous.

The village elders had not taken the news well. She was an outsider; an enemy. And it was true. There was no part of her not somehow alien, from clothing to bone structure and speech. It had been agreed that Ume was to be kept on some sort of probation. She was to be in a konoha Jonin's custody at all times, until further notice, and was not to leave the village boundaries.

"And I want my hitai ate back." She added as an afterthought. "Ironic- I bet that bastard's keeping it in his desk."

"If you don't stop complaining, I'm taking you back to the hospital." There was no reply, and he went back to scanning the lines of his (now slightly bent) book lovingly. As tempting as it was to have her put back on sedation, that would prove impossible. According to the nurses, she'd spent an absurd amount of time fighting the drug's effects, refusing to sleep. The amount necessary to really put her out was far above the level they would be able to prescribe safely for any length of time. Kakashi shook his head. She simply_** refused **_to make this whole mess any easier...

Like her student (he supposedformer student was more fitting, now) Kotone needed somewhere to stay. Given that she'd have to be in the custody of someone who could subdue her at any given time, the list came up rather short. The list of those _**willing**_ was shorter still.

Only Mitarashi Anko had been quick to volunteer. Wordlessly; unanimously, this was deemed an incredibly bad idea, and was quickly dismissed. In fact, it was decided (once Anko left, since the meeting no longer concerned her) that measures should be taken to ensure the two never met.

It was decided that Kurenai's skill with genjutsu (the prisoner they were trying to avoid calling a prisoner was, by her own companion's admission and Sakura's observation severely limited in that area) and calm disposition left her, by far, the best influence. Kakashi had volunteered to escort the now highly agitated and unreasonably (understandable as it was) suspicious kunoichi into the more trustworthy woman's detention. Her residence was in one of the many complexes of apartments on the other side of the town from the hospital. As it stood now, they were passing by the Hyuuga complex.

A lack of grumbling beside him alerted the copy nin to his charge's distraction. She'd stopped dead a few feet behind him, and stared, eyes narrowed, at the Hyuuga property. She strode forward, teeth nearly bared.

It took him a moment to realize what had triggered this; he grit his teeth behind the mask, and chased after.

_vvvvvvvv_

Rock Lee was nothing if not thoughtful. Training had been slated for mid afternoon today (Tsunade had said it would be best to ease the new addition to his team into their training schedule _**gradually,**_ but he really couldn't imagine why) and he could think of no better way to bond with the recent, however temporary, acquisition to their squad. They had met the day before, albeit briefly, but despite the suspicion surrounding the foreigners, Lee was sold. No one who would face the kind of adversity she had for the sake of their nindo could possibly be bad.

There had been, however, one small worry to cross his mind when they'd been introduced: she was far too quiet. It would be frightening, he imagined, changing settings so completely, after being kidnaped by a lunatic no less; depending on who's version of the story you heard- Lee believed Sakura's account, of course- she'd been kidnaped one lunatic after another. And so, it was his duty as teammate to welcome her warmly, and do everything within his power to assure that she feel a part of their team.

Which is why he simply couldn't understand why she had thrown her pillow at him when he'd barged in to her temporary room in the massive Hyuuga compound (it had been decided that they had both the space to keep, and ability to supervise her until it was entirely decided that she was benign). It was impolite not to have knocked, he knew, but he could think of no way to alert the deaf girl to his presence from the other side of the door. He'd taken precaution, of course. He would never break into a lady's room without assurance that it was alright. His teammate, who leaned with arms crossed across his chest and disparaging sort of frown informed him that she was decent. She'd apparently woken with the rest of them to eat breakfast, then returned immediately to bed, still fully clothed.

Lee's trademark eyebrows knitted in sympathy. The poor creature was too terrified to go about her day as usual, opting instead to remain hidden away in her room...? That was it. Ruri needed to be drawn out from her shell! Someone needed to give her a push in the right direction. And he was just the someone to do it.

"Ruri San," Lee started, as soon as he was certain he had her attention, and she would be able to read his words. "It is a wonderful day outside! I would love it if you were to join Neji and I-" Neji, who did not remember having volunteered for anything, raised an eyebrow. "- for a run around the village, and some extra training!"

Bleary eyed and straight faced, the former mist genin grabbed her pillow from the place it had landed after glancing off of Lee's bowl cut, and returned to bed.

Lee set his expression, took in a determined breath, and persisted. He took a few steps closer, and nudged her with his hand. She made a noise, and buried her face in the mattress. Clearly, she was shyer than he had thought... He grabbed the kunoichi 's wrist, and dragged her to her feet gently as he could. This was an intervention. She would thank him later.

"Let me go." She said, quickly. He shook his head, and informed her regretfully that for her own good he could not allow her to stay cooped up in her room a moment longer. She kicked him in the shins, frowning and doing it again when her foot hit...metal? Something that wasn't shin. She shrugged, and aimed for his kneecap.

"That was an excellent kick, Ruri san!" He exclaimed much too happily for one who had been kicked in the knee. "You will do excellently training with us!" Then he did the stupid thumbs up thing again, and Ruri made a face.

"Lee san," She began, looking to the night stand and the things she'd placed on it. "I can't train with you right now."

He blinked at her, and she hoped that the message had perhaps sunk in. Then his face screwed up, and she noted with no small amount of irritation that his eyes were a fair bit shinier than they should have been. "Yes you can, Ruri San! You _**can!**_ You will do excellently! And do not let anyone tell you otherwise!" He resumed the effort to drag her to their training ground with renewed fervor. She scrambled against the pull to grab the important thing she had left by her bed, planting her feet. But to no avail; small though the miniature version of her temporary sensei may have been, it was like being dragged by a cart horse.

"Lee san, you don't understand-"

He answered, but she couldn't see the reply. Judging by the fact that he managed to drag her outside, he'd failed to understand the problem. Ruri squeaked, and squeezed her eyes shut tightly as the shadow of the building slipped away.

A number of Hyuuga had poked their heads from hallways and windows, each watching the episode with a kind of dull exasperation. "I don't know which is more depressing." Neji sighed, shaking his head. "That he does this sort of thing, or that no one is surprised anymore." His cousin flinched. Hinata hadn't managed to drum up the courage to speak with the older girl, but there was a sort of potential fondness in her near-greetings. As quickly as they had appeared, the other kekkei genkai users tired of the spectacle, and returned to their business.

Lee had turned back to call Neji to join them as he noted the odd look on the pale, bandaged gentle-fist user's face. His cousin had gone incredibly pale. "Neji kun, is something-"

"What the _**fuck**_ do you think you're doing?"

In a second, he was grabbed by his jumpsuit's turtleneck, and his hand was wrenched from Ruri's wrist. He blinked at the scathing stranger narrowing her eyes at him. "No, really." She growled. "I'm serious. Why the hell are you dragging her around like that? Give me one good reason not to-"

"Easy, Ume... " Kakashi, who had caught up with her, eased; voice terse with a repressed sigh. He moved to pry her grip from the boy's wrist and throat, but someone else beat him to it.

"Is there a problem here?" Kakashi didn't need to look. He recognized the voice and speech patterns all too well. Kotone rounded on the man who'd set the vice grip on her arm, and hissed at him. "I'd ask you to kindly unhand my student." He replied, unphased.

She stared for a moment, her bewildered expression cracking as she stifled a giggle, looking him over. "I'm going to go out on a limb here," she started, somehow still furious through her laughter, "and assume you're responsible for this little twerp."

The larger, flak jacket wearing version of the boy who she'd just threatened tilted his head to the side slightly, studying her. Judging by the pointed eye teeth, bone structure, and general difficulty pronouncing their language, it was fairly safe to assume that this was... "Ah! You must be Ruri chan's companion." Kotone's eyes widened as he forced her hand from his student's collar. The man's grip was _**unbelievable..**_. She grit her teeth at the man's proximity, and yanked her ensnared hand away.

He grinned at the still fuming not quite-nuke-nin, and extended the same hand in greeting. "Nice to meet you."

Kotone looked to Kakashi, who was hiding behind his book. "He's...kidding, right?" The copy ninja shook his head.

She turned her attention back to the man with the bowl cut. "Listen, uh...."

"Maito Gai-" he offered helpfully, ignoring her tone.

"Gai." She spat, cutting him off before he could give her his full self-proclaimed title. "I'm not sure what you think you're doing letting your brat manhandle the kid you're supposed to be looking after-"

"I did not mean any harm..." Lee protested feebly. He turned immediately to apologize to said 'kid', but she had wordlessly started back for her room, to Lee's dismay.

"Ok, come on." Kakashi sighed (this was becoming a lot more like babysitting than supervising) "Let's go-" Kotone ignored him, and kept her scathing gaze on the other jonin.

"I can tell you right now, with absolute certainty, that Lee here would never do anything to harm that girl." Gai assured her, still smiling. She wanted nothing more than to knock those annoying teeth _**out... **_

"That's not what it looked like." She hissed. "She was_** clearly **_distressed, dumbass."

A very puzzled 'green beast' frowned at her as he considered this. "Lee would never harm her, but I concede she _**did **_look a bit troubled..."

"A bit? A fucking _**bit!**_? You don't know the first thing about her, do you?"

"Alright, that's enough," Kakashi pocketed the book, hands turned palm outwards as he tried to quell the one sided argument. Gai, true to form, seemed to be thoroughly enjoying himself. And Gai, being his usual friendly self, moved to- Uh oh.

Kakashi opened his mouth to warn him a moment too late.

His hand patted her back, and she, immediately and on blind instinct, swung at his nose with her elbow full force. If there was one thing he had learned about her in the short while the copy nin and the leopardess had known each other, it was this: she hated being touched.

She let out a victorious snicker as her elbow connected with something solid. It died in her throat, however, when she realized that, far from crushing his cheekbone, he'd blocked it with one hand... and was still grinning.

Her eyes narrowed, and with a strangled sort of frustrated hiss, lunged for him again; aiming a foot for his face, and a flat hand to his neck. Both he blocked effortlessly, and taking a small step backwards. "Your technique is excellent," He informed her happily. It was _**infuriating. **_

She roared, gritting her sharp teeth, and assailing the still blithe leaf jonin again, her moves quickened, and she struck more forcefully to the neck, face, stomach, spine; not one met it's mark. With a skill that surprised the kunoichi, he evaded each.

And then, quite suddenly, she found herself very well acquainted with the ground.

She blinked, her eyelashes brushing the coppery sand of the Hyuuga's compound, and evaluated the technique he'd used to throw her. It was outside of her own repertoire, but similar to many others and she moved to counter it appropriately... Only to find herself nose down in the dirt once more, a second later. She tried again, with the same result.

"Careful, Gai," she heard the artificial Sharingan-user comment dryly from above, "she bites."

Now truly frustrated, Kotone growled, and hissed and spat; gnashing her teeth as she fought against his hold. She was not especially strong, by the standards of many larger, male shinobi, but her technique generally evened things out. This was no longer the case. He was a great deal stronger... and his skill matched hers.

It had been a very long time since she had encountered_** this**_ much difficulty grappling. Well, it _**had**_ happened often... But it had always been the same opponent; just the one. Kotone wanted to keep it that way.

But though she hissed, and bared her teeth and snapped and thrashed- she was pinned. Still, she struggled against the obnoxious, presumptuous stranger; she had no intention of accepting defeat so easily.

"You're very tenacious! That's the spirit!" By every god, she could_** hear **_the bastard grinning. Her answer was to scream curses and death threats in both her native language and theirs.

"Oi," Kotone's cries died instantly. She recognized the voice, and turned her head to looked up. A less disheveled Ruri; hair now neatly as she usually liked it, and sunglasses covering her eyes; was crouched beside her, expression level though tinged with reproach."You're making a scene." It was more of a statement than a criticism, but the older, former- mist ninja sighed through her clenched teeth, and submit with all the grace and humility of a particularly ill-mannered five year old. Gai was oblivious to the acrimonious tone, and grinned, offering his hand to help her back to her feet. She narrowed her eyes, and pushed herself back to standing; eyeing the outstretched hand sulfurously.

She turned her back to Gai completely, folding her arms and returning her attention to the other Mizu no kuni native; face uncertainly colleted. She was attempting detachment, but there was a nervous flicker of her mouth that hinted it's insincerity. There was a guilty shifting of her eyes to the clear skies above, then the ground.

Kotone hadn't really had a chance to speak to the younger Kunoichi since she'd been abducted. Ruri signed an indifferent, though not disliking greeting, that Kotone returned awkwardly.

Kakashi surreptitiously slid his hitai ate from his sharingan eye to monitor at least Kotone's half of the conversation.

Ruri moved her hands, face still calm.

_Yeah. I'm fine. How are you, though? _He read.

Another hand motion he didn't know, and Kotone frowned.

_Right... good. Good. _Kotone, nodded, hands on her waist, face still conflicted. _What about this moron, and the brats? They're treating you well? _The genin seemed to have no complaint, and so, the older woman grit her teeth, and tore herself away from the conversation, leaving it half-finished. She turned instead to Gai, her expression beginning to smolderagain as she folded her arms across her flat chest stiffly. "You," she barked, abandoning the closed posture just long enough to jab a finger in his direction, "I want a word."

Gai, still jovial, obliged her, and allowed himself to be led off to the side, much to Kakashi's anxiety. Gai could, obviously, fight her off if the need arose- she was slower than usual, her body not yet free of the hospital's effects- but he'd have hell to pay if she damaged the prestigious Hyuuga household on his watch.

"_Listen," _she nearly hissed, realising that she had slipped back into her homeland's dialect, and corrected the language, "you see those glasses? She doesn't go anywhere without them, _**ever.**_" She glanced over her shoulder, to see Ruri and the little Gai lookalike taking off to wherever it was they had been headed before she had her sunglasses; the Hyuuga trailed after indignantly.

She signed a 'Take care', but Ruri didn't turn to have seen it.

She had to take a step back when she noticed how intently Gai was watching her; head nodding slightly, his grin faded just enough to be heedful. She studied his face carefully, eyes narrowing as she tried to discern the element of his expression that made her so anxious. She frowned...there was nothing-

That was it; there was nothing. Nothing odd, or guarded in his eyes, or posture. He was hiding nothing- She looked him up and down quickly...Nothing at _**all**_.

"So.... yeah," She crossed her arms more tightly, and looked back at the departing genin to avoid his eye (The smaller freak was changing "Training! Training!" in a voice supersaturated with enthusiasm. It was unnerving) and chewed on her bottom lip. "She's stone deaf. I'd hope someone'd have told you by now. Er..." She knew she sounded clumsy in their language. She wasn't sure why it was bothering her, and she wasn't sure what compelled her to talk to this moron in the first place.

But, there were certain things that had to be said, and Ruri would never complain or share them. So, she would have to take it upon herself to see that everything was alright, and determine by just what sort of man her .... her armrest, would be looked after.

She owed the girl at least that much.

"She hates shiny things. She's really worried about her eyes... Mirrors, that jerk's lightning jutsus, the sun..." Kotone glanced back at him. "If anyone sets of a flash bomb anywhere _**near**_ that kid, I swear on every god who'll listen that I'll break your face-"

"Ok, that's it. We're leaving." Kakashi, who had let this go on for far too long, interrupted; his patience had begun to wear thin. Not wanting to repeat Gai's mistake, he placed himself between the two in order to herd her back towards the street without actually making any sort of contact. She backed away, begrudingly, to avoid him, and keep him at what she considered a safe distance.

"Hey!" She shouted, leaning around him. "Make sure she can see you when you're talking. She's really smart, but she needs to know you're talking to her-"

"Come on," Kakashi coaxed as they merged with the stream of passing villagers as they made they way down the street one way or the other, and were swept up with the current the way they had been going. Kotone was eyeing the way behind them, wheels turning in her head- She was seriously considering running back there.

Kakashi sighed, and pondered the ramifications of simply sharingan-ing her complacent, and carrying her to Kurenai's...

"Three feet, Hatake." She reminded with a glare, shifting farther to the side.

"That's impossible. I've got to keep you in arm's reach in case you make a break for it. And I can't be losing sight of you in the crowd," He replied with a mock-cheerful air meant most likely to irritate, "our previous agreement no longer stands."

She continued to fume as she walked, muttering to herself in her mother tongue. "Stupid jerk..." she spat, "if I wasn't still groggy from that stupid hospital, I'd have killed him."

"Oh, really?" Kakashi answered from behind the book he'd returned to. "You know, if there's one thing Gai hates, it's a sore loser..."

"He _**didn't **_hurt me!" She snapped, her teeth clicking together audibly. It occurred to him that perhaps he should avoid continental idioms, for the time being. "Losing like that..." She shook her head. "The man was an_** idiot**_."

"You know, I swear I've heard someone say that before." Kakashi put a hand to his chin, eyes closed and feigned pensive thought. "Ah, right. Now I remember!" She glanced over at him, one cobalt eyebrow raised. "It was Hoshigaki Kisame."

Kotone turned a sickly shade of pale, and was quiet rest of the trip.

Kakashi was suddenly very glad that his mask, if not his book, hid his smirking. _Finally. _

_

* * *

_

I have more of this planned XDD It's way too much fun.

Anyways! thanks for reading, please review, and have an awesome day! :3


	10. Comfort Zone: part II

It's late, and I've gotta get to bed, so I'll make this short XDD I had WAY too much fun writing this.

I love this pairing way too much XDD my sincerest apologies if he's ridiculously OOC.

RURI BELONGS TO JAY-NO-BAKA ON DEVIANTART~! Credit goes to heeeer~

Disclaimer: Naruto Belongs to Kishimoto Masashi

Title: Comfort Zone

Genre: Crack/romance

Warnings: strong Language

Canon: Yes

Fic Spoilers: YES.

Setting: Filler time, Konohagakure no sato

Summary: If only it was so easy to get rid of the other things bothering her. Like pretentious leaf jonin keeping her from sleeping.... with their stupid hair, and stupid legwarmers.... and....and stupid self imposed_** rules. **_ [GaiKotone AU crack]

* * *

To say the situation was unorthodox would be a grave understatement. The thought of a ninja from one of the five great shinobi nations taking refuge, and perhaps even_** joining,**_ another (though, rebels and rogues fleeing to smaller ninja villages was more than common-smaller, weaker nations took whoever they could get) was nigh unthinkable.

And word spread, as word is wont to do.

No details, no real fact, just a patchwork of ideas; a general picture of the situations made piece by piece of unreliable, disjointed bits of information. As Ruri was by far less conspicuous, (and under Gai's supervision and the Hyuugas' protection) Kotone was by far the more spoken of, and she was spoken of very differently depending on which strain of the gossip one was fed.

The protection and secrecy of a hidden village meant a cloistered existence. As few of the villagers had seen a foreigner before, there had been stares as they made their way towards Kurenai's residence. It was subtle, and Kotone, once calm, passed virtually unnoticed until someone was close enough to catch the slight narrowness to her eyes and sharpness to her cheekbones- the pale and dark colouring not common since the death of the Uchiha clan and the white-blue eyes that were not near pale enough to be Hyuuga, (Kakashi noted that she kept her lips sealed securely over her teeth) and elbow someone next to him to point the anomaly out.

Not to mention the many that had noticed both her accent and hissing, a while before. That was something of a giveaway.

The villager's gossip was horribly inaccurate, and as harmless as it was irritating. More animal than human, some kind of negotiations with the mist, many claimed the stranger-captive to be a man, and the few who acknowledge Ruri's presence as well as Kotone's second X chromosone insisted that she was the girl's mother. Others still were bold enough to claim a leaf-nin father as the reason for their presence (as well as the girl's more agreeable temperament).

That last one made him slightly uncomfortable, but all in all they were of little consequence. It was the whispers amongst the ninja of the village that really held weight. Kill her; throw her to Ibiki; send her back to the accursed mist-devils, let them deal with her.

But Tsunade was their kage, and they were left to abide by whatever it was she eventually decided. Any talk of taking things into their own hands was frowned upon, even if collectively approved of.

Kakashi had told her in no subtle terms that she was being watched for her own safety as much as to ensure the safety of their secrets. She nearly laughed.

She was passed from able (the willingness varied greatly) jonin to able jonin as quickly and temporarily as weather passed from place to place, and no place could be rid of her quickly enough. She refused food, slept much, and ignored her keeper most entirely. Many passed her to the next with the belief that she didn't understand their dialect.

They had a name for her, Yuurei, and as much as Kakashi would like to have called it cruel, it was lamentably accurate. The pale, dark haired, silent, near lifeless thing most alive at the witching hour did little but... well, _**haunt**_ her temporary custodian.

The only sign of life came from a brief stint with Kurenai's squad. She had parked herself under the protection of a tree's cover, pressed close to the trunk to keep from the sun. Akamaru had meandered over to her hiding places, sniffed at her briefly, and growled at her. Kotone growled back.

She sent the pup back to his human companion with his tail between his legs, and Kiba kept well away from her after that. The stink of cat, he said, was simply too much.

And so, she'd stalked back to Kurenai's apartment, and settled herself leaning against a corner of the room. She seemed to ignore some completely, but Kurenai was one of the few she'd follow around the room with her eyes. Occasionally the leaf kunoichi would attempt friendly conversation. It proved very difficult to do so with someone so unfriendly.

Her only relief from the tensing of he atmosphere was a knock on her door; She and Asuma were supposed to review the details of their next mission today. Asuma sat himself down, (taking no note of the wary mist nin's glare) on the couch beside Kurenai, and plans were all but lost in their friendly conversation. It was after a particularly accurate joke at Mitarashi Anko's expense and their guilty laughter that Kotone bolted.

She was a blur of blue and black as she flew past them; not towards the doors or windows as they feared, but down the hall; and a door slammed loudly. The two exchanged alarmed glances, and after a quick dispute as to wether or not it was safe to do so, Kurenai followed after.

The bathroom door was shut, and Kurenai knocked tentatively, one eyebrow raised. "Is everything alright?"

"Yes," came the muffled reply.

Kurenai laughed, in spite of herself. "So you can speak."

"Well enough."

Kurenai frowned, and folded her arms across her chest. "So what's the matter?"

"I told you. Nothing."

"People don't generally run for the cover at first-gate speed when company comes over." Kurenai replied

"I can't do that."

Kurenai sighed at the nonsensical answer. Must have been a language thing. "It's alright, you know. Asuma San has nothing against your being here. We've all got to abide by Tsunade Sama's decision, so you've got nothing to fear from any of us."

"I'm not _**scared.**_" She replied indignantly. "I'm just getting out of your way." A very puzzled Kurenai asked her to clarify. "You know..." She answered hesitantly. "Give you both some privacy. I see how you're talking. I'm not just going to sit there and watch."

"Kotone San," Kurenai took in a deep breath, shaking her head. "I think you've misunderstood. Asuma San and I... we're just talking. We're friends."

"You're all_** smiley**_ and shit! Friends or not, I figured you wouldn't want me hanging around."

"Smiling is perfectly normal." Kurenai's brows furrowed. "We were just being sociable."

"Sociable," echoed the other, almost curiously. "You were sitting awful close together."

"So? Asuma San is a very good friend of mine-" The leaf woman stopped, and brought a thoughtful hand to her chin. "Kotone San, what constitutes affection, in Kirigakure?"

There was a long pause on the other side of the door. "We don't... relate, in public. We stick to orders and keep impersonal when there are people around. That'd just be weird. There are expectations..." She heard the pale woman sigh. "I know this one guy. He and his lover... held hands, I think it was, in public. Didn't go over so well."

Kurenai it her lip. "What happened?"

"He totally disgraced his clan." The other replied gravely. "The head of his family damn near killed him. The girl was alright, though. They didn't expect much from her; she wasn't much of a fighter."

"I see," she nodded slowly. 'Yuurei's behaviour was beginning to make a bit of sense. "So anything short of hissing and glaring is too personal."

"I think it's just me that hisses, but yeah, pretty much. Anyone older than me, at least. After our year, training changed. That's why...the kid's... not how I am."

"You know things are different here, right?" She tried to explain the culture, but found it remarkably difficult to describe one's own way of life objectively. The other woman was silent, and Kurenai wondered if her description of the "Will of Fire" was being understood at all. Perhaps she should call Asuma; he's always been well spoken in that regard. A Sarutobi talent, no doubt.

"No, I.... I understand." The kunoichi on the other side of the door assured. "I just don't think I could get used to it myself."

"You're certainly welcome to try."

The doorknob clicked unlocked, and turned, leaving Kurenai facing a defeated and fairly incredulous former mist kunoichi; who said nothing, but followed her back to her living room without further complaint. The conversation, however, was now nonexistent. Asuma was now more conscious of her presence, and the feeling of intrusion put a damper on their talk.

"So," Both were shocked to hear Kotone break the awkward silence. "It was you two who had it out with Kisame, hm?"

"Yeah, sort of. If you could call it that." Asuma replied, with a near wince and a exhalation of smoke.

"What's that supposed to mean?"

"Well," Kurenai continued. "It was Kakashi who really dealt with them, initially. Gai took it from there." Kotone's mouth twitched, before falling again as she let out a short, mirthless laugh. She stood up then, and made for the hallway once more. She turned when Kurenai moved to stop her.

"Don't worry, Kurenai san. This isn't cultural." She smiled, still distracted. The smile didn't reach her eyes. "I just can't stand the smell of cigarettes. Smells like... rat." And with that, she excused herself from their company, fuming as she fled down the hall.

_vvvvvvvv_

She'd been watching the jonin make his rounds, from one student to the next, and returned her attention to the water clone she was sparring with, and kept kneeing it long after she was aware of his presence nearby, determined to avoid-

The green thing tapped at her shoulder, and she had to turn. Both Ruri and her duplicate stopped to blink at the smiling, oddball jonin. His grin widened, and he rested one fist on his hip. "Yes! It's wonderful to see you giving that training everything you've got! Haha, now that's youth at it's finest! Just keepat it, and-" His grin faltered, as he noted the blank look on the girl's face.

"I'm sorry," she said, in her slightly slurred, though understandable way, "but could you repeat that?"

"Oh," Gai's mouth quirked to the side. "Uh... Well... you're doing excellently." He assured more briefly, before moving back to the set of one handed pushups he'd assigned himself to complete before checking up on everyone again.

"Wow," She'd noticed Tenten drifting over from her targets, comparatively neat eyebrows knitted in sympathy. "That must be really hard, not knowing what people are saying to you."

Ruri shook her head. "No, that's almost never a problem. I knew what he was saying, but sometimes I think it's best to pretend I don't." Tenten stared at her, mouth gaping.

"I sure wish I could do that."

On the other side of the cleared space, the jonin supervisor grit his teeth as he neared his four hundreth repetition. If he could not complete this many, he would-

"Yo."

Ah, he'd recognize that voice anywhere. His rival crossed the field, still flipping through his novel. Gai wasn't sure what the book was about; and Kakashi seemed determined to be 'cool' and 'nonchalant' and 'evasive' whenever he asked; but it certainly must have been interesting to keep his attention so definitely.

"Kakashi!" He greeted warmly, getting back to his feet. He'd not yet set himself a penalty for failing the set, but Eternal Rivals trumped drills, naturally, and he could always start again later. "What's up? Here for a..." Gai grinned at the memory of their last race, (51-52, his favour ), "...Rematch?"

"Not today, Gai." The copy nin glanced up from the pages of the orange-covered book. "I'm just checking up on the kid. How's she doing?"

"Ah!" Gai nodded. "Yes, well, it's soon yet, but I'm sure that given the situation, the team will take some getting used to. Lee's doing all he can to get her socializing, but she's still pretty withdrawn, you know?"

"Technique wise, though." The grey haired man asked seriously as he flipped the page. "If I understand correctly, she mostly taught herself. That's impressive, but how well does she know it?"

"For a badly-trained first year Genin? I'd say she's done just fine. Such wonderful tenacity! With the right help, there's no doubt she'll catch up to my three adorable students!" Gai assured him with a grin, and audible flash of teeth.

"Uh.... Right, yeah." The silver- haired jonin cleared his throat, never taking his eyes off the page for fear that thing would not work out for Junko as they had every other time he'd read it before. He was also trying to ignore the way the other was eyeing him expectantly. He snapped the pages closed with a defeated sigh. "Alright, fine. Another competition then?"

"Yes! If I lose this match, I swear I'll do six hundred laps of cartwheels around the village! " Gai's smile nearly split his face, and he nodded emphatically when Kakashi reminded him that it was his own turn to decide the event. "What will it be this time, dear Rival? Swimming? Racing backwards? Interpretive dance? Whatever it is, I'm ready to give it my all!"

"That's... not quite what I had in mind." Kakashi put a thoughtful hand to his chin. "How about we see....Who can be shortest. Go." Gai's jaw dropped, distraught, and his eyebrows raised to illustrate his shock as he tried to think of a way to- "Time's up." The copy nin stepped closer, his eyes level with the other's nose, and looked him up and down before meandering away lazily. "Looks like I win. Better luck next time, Gai."

_vvvvvvvvvvv_

"What the _**hell**_ is that moron doing?"

Kurenai glanced up from the charts and scrolls sprawled out on the table before her, all mapping out the next day's assignment. The other kunoichi had been stretching by the window. She'd gotten to her feet and moved quietly to a far corner of her team's training field. Kurenai had been more concerned with her students' training than with the other jonin's and so had paid it little mind, but was surprised to find her abandon her practice so quickly. "What?"

The faces of the people below were blurred, and she couldn't tell one from another. Her vision didn't allow that sort of detail. Which is why she was surprised to recognize one of the figures passing by. Both the colour and oddity of the movement had caught the corner of her eyes, and she'd glanced down only to grimace in distaste. She'd been doing her best to ignore the thing that passed through her peripheral vision from time to time. "_**That **_idiot." She nodded in the direction of the street below, still pulling an arm across her chest wincing when the joint let out an audible crack. "He's been by 58 times now. Not that I'm counting or anything."

"Again?" Kurenai sighed,nodded and went back to her papers. "Don't worry. He does that. It's.... Well, I don't know how it started. Gai has this... rivalry, he calls it, with Kakashi. It's fairly one sided. Anyway, he...what was it again? A "penalty?" Anyways, he punishes himself when he loses one of their competitions. It's some kind of training thing."

Kotone raised an eyebrow, chuckled to herself incredulously, then sat with the soles of her feet together, and leaned to the floor._ No good. _She thought, gritting her teeth against the unusually persistent ache in her back and shoulders.

She'd been forced to stop practicing today to avoid looking like an idiot; wincing every time she moved the wrong way. She'd nothing to say to Kurenai's genin and wasn't sure how to go about socializing with the genjutsu-user herself. That had left her with nothing to do but find a nice shady place, sit back against a tree trunk, and nod off.

She detested the idea of sleeping in front of potential enemies, and so kept her eyes closed and commented on whatever was going, just to keep them from ever assuming her level of consciousness. She'd become something of a light sleeper in recent years, and the noise of the dog boy alone was enough to keep her from napping too soundly.

She'd been unusually tired the last few days. How did they expect her to sleep at night? She hadn't been able to, and so caught up during the daylight when she found time; besides, the unfamiliar sunlight on her face and warming her black hair was difficult to contend with. Yes, that must have been what was making her so drowsy. There wasn't much else to do, anyway.

Perhaps, she'd decided, if she managed to get her aching joints she'd be able to better entertain herself, if only by beating the crap out of her own water clones. As the night wore on, it only seemed to get worse. Odd, she decided, that she could drag herself to her feet after being mauled by an immense, carnivorous animal or after Naoko had made her a human pincushion, and a few stiff muscles were irking her to this extent.

Also irking her was the green thing flipping past the window at regular intervals, long after sundown, and long after Kurenai had gone to bed and Kotone had pretended to.

She was tired, but it still felt wrong to sleep when the moon was out. Also, the village quieted at night, and as the window was open, she could now actually hear the stupid bastard flopping past the apartment, even if they were on the third storey. There was a grunt of effort, the plodding of hands and feet on the street, and a number being chanted incessantly under his breath to keep track.

"Five hundred sixty four." Kotone muttered irritably when she first caught the sound of the leaf-jonin's approach. Kurenai had offered her the couch to stay on while she was in her custody, and Kotone lay down there exhausted but awake. Something else had started to bother her. As she moved, she swore she could feel the damaged tissue in her back straining. She could feel the lines of scar tissue begin to sting as they did on occasion. "Five hundred and sixty five."

At "five hundred and eighty six" she got up. She wasn't sure what compelled her to get to her feet, or to cross the room, or to lean out the window; but she could be fairly certain why she shouted _"Oi, Dumbfuck!" _As he passed. She knew how to swear in _tairikugo, _well enough, but she'd always preferred the sound of curses in her own tongue.

Kotone stifled a snort, and set to giggling. He stopped. He _**actually **_stopped! Wow.

The man, Gai, turned to look in her direction but staggered back a few feet, his arms held out to steady himself.

Kotone let out another wicked giggle. "What's the matter," she taunted, "tired?"

"No, no." The blurred green thing on the street below assured, swaying dangerously on his feet. "Just... a bit dizzy, that's all. Something I didn't quite anticipate." Her eyes didn't allow the precision to be sure, but she got the sinking feeling he had just shot some kind of grin. Or he was about to vomit.

"You do look a bit green." She agreed. It was tacky to laugh at her own jokes, she knew, but she was pretty damn proud of herself for managing a pun in her second language.

"Haha! Don't you trouble yourself, dear lady. I'll be fine." He flashed her another thumbs up and grin as soon as he'd properly regained his balance.

An offended Kotone bristled, and snarled low in her throat. Judging by the way he stayed as he was, to low for him to hear from the street. She couldn't see his expression to be sure.

She was inclined to drop down there and settle their earlier skirmish, but.... She flinched as she moved her neck to the side. The drop looked unfriendly; her knees would never forgiver her if she tried it now. Besides, she felt exhausted. As much as she'd have liked to knee him in the face, she knew her heart just wouldn't be in it.

"Kurenai san explained this ridiculous system of yours. I don't know why you bother." She called down dryly, leaning against the windowsill and holding her breath till her muscles adjusted to the move. Her breath caught in her throat and she coughed into her hand when she tried to inhale. "I mean," she began again, ignoring her own interruption, "there's no one here to see. I really doubt anyone gives a damn anyway." She coughed again, face crinkling in distaste as it stung. Coughing made her nervous. _As long as there was no blood_, she reminded herself, _you're alright_. _And if there is blood_, added the less pleasant and more logical part of her brain, _you're going to die like Okaa san, so there's no use worrying, anyway. _

"I said I would." He answered, unperturbed by her tone. "That's enough for me." She didn't have to see his face to picture the expression. He was grinning again, and she felt herself frown. "Besides that, in assigning myself a penalty for losing and holding myself to that penalty, I not only take the task more seriously, but I become stronger for the next challenge!" Kotone rolled her eyes.

She furrowed her brow slowly as she noticed the odd twitch he seemed to have developed. The blurred mass of green had begun to bounce in place. "What the eighteen hells are you doing?"

"Ah!" Ugh. That excessively peppy tone again She cleared her burning throat again, and stifled another cough. "Well, when I said I'd do six hundred laps of cartwheels around the leaf village, I'd meant consecutively. If I stand still for too long, it would be like taking a break. So, to stick to my word, I'll just have to keep moving. Haha!" He answered brightly as he jogged in place.

She raised a cobalt eyebrow. "Then why the heck are you wasting your time talking to me?"

He seemed taken aback, and she congratulated herself internally for finally irking the dumb bastard. Much to her chagrin, he recovered and answered with every ounce of his previous enthusiasm. "Well, I.... It would be inexcusably rude to simply walk away from a conversation with a lovely young woman like yourself, and-" He stopped, blinking in bewilderment as the window was slammed shut with enough force to rattle a flowerpot balanced on the sill a few storeys above. Gai skipped back as the pottery and ruined hyacinth splattered to the ground where his head had been a moment earlier.

The jonin scrambled frantically to save the plant, oblivious to the lights turned on and neighbours, who'd been awakened by the crash, watching him skeptically. He scooped up what he could of the purple flowers roots and soil, setting it gingerly in the largest piece of the shattered pot, and set it against the wall of the building. It was someone's plant, and someone probably cared for it very dearly. Hopefully they'd find it there in the morning. With that, he nodded decisively and cartwheeled away.

_vvvvvvvvvvv_

Kotone sat up, and groaned.

Light streamed through Kurenai's windows, and scalded her retinas. The offending rays of light seemed to fly from her eyes to her skull, and set it to pounding. She blinked, rolling herself off of Kurenai's couch, and took stock of her aches. Her head, shoulders and back all protested when she moved, as they had begun to the day before. And to top it all off, despite the abundance of sun, she was shivering.

A bout of lightheadedness caught her as she stood, and she steadied herself against the back of the sofa. Why did she feel so weak? She decided that it was safe to assume the Konoha nin weren't out to poison her, and actually eat the food they offered instead of sneaking things when no one was looking. But it was probably just a reaction to the change in her schedule; she wasn't used to being up during daylight, and so her body objected.

The faintness perused her all the way to team eight's training field. She abandoned her normal sitting and glaring, instead opting to try again, and stretch the muscles bothering her. If only it was so easy to get rid of the other things bothering her. Like pretentious leaf jonin keeping her from sleeping.... with their stupid hair, and stupid legwarmers.... and....and stupid self imposed_** rules. **_

She abandoned the stretching for standing and observing Kurenai's trainees once her head began to spin.

There had been an uneasy churning in her stomach for a while now, and as she watched the genin train a wave of nausea that had nothing to do with the bugs crawling out from the quiet one's clothing came over her.

She closed her eyes, and forced herself to bite back on the feeling. As long as she only felt it in her abdomen- ...with this thought, her stomach flopped and she felt the discomfort of _**imminent **_sickness in the back of her throat.

She was not to eat, sleep, or cry before an enemy. Those were the conditions that had been hammered into her mind so frequently as an academy student that she'd long grown tired of hearing them. These things were too human, she'd been told. She wasn't sure what the stance was on puking... it was technically eating in reverse, but still pretty damn human.

No, she decided. Best not to do that with the Leaf nin watching.

Her eyes flickered to the bushes along the edge of the clearing as she searched for an escape route. Of course, if she bolted, Kurenai may very well kill her. Her stomach churned again, and she deemed this an acceptable risk.

She was still trembling, but was surprised to find her hair sweat drenched and warmed to burning by the sun. Kotone's stiff shoulders heaved involuntarily and she darted towards the unlucky patch of grass she'd set her eyes on.

She took two running steps towards the edge of the forest; her head spun, and her vision dimmed. Momentum carried her another few, but her knees buckled and the ground came rushing up to meet her.

_vvvvvvvvvv_

"Is ...is she d-dead?"

"Nah. Still smells alive." Akamaru yipped his agreement.

Kurenai knelt beside the unconscious Mist jonin, and laid a hand to her forehead. "She's much too warm. I think it may be heatstroke."

"Whaa?" Kiba's face screwed up, and he quirked an eyebrow. "We're training in parkas, and _**she**_ gets heat stroke?"

"Kiba kun...." The white eyed girl bit her lip.

"You three, keep practicing." Kurenai instructed as she heaved the other (and heavier) woman over her shoulder with some effort, before springing off in the Hospital's direction.

vvvvvvvvv

"There's nothing I can do for her." Tsunade informed the dark haired woman, with a noncomittal shrug.

"So...it's serious." She answered gravely.

"No, not at all." The Hokage glanced back at the papers on her desk, flipping a corner idly, and then to Sakura who was observing them quietly from her seat on the far side of the room, over the top of the medical scroll she was supposed to be studying. "There's no reason for her to be in the hospital. It's just the brat-flu."

Sakura's eyes widened. "But that's a kid's thing." Brat-flu was an affectionate nickname for a cough they'd all had at one time or another, and usually just the once. It was a pain, and a few days from classes, but nothing serious...

"Usually," Tsunade with a nod, "but this woman was raised elsewhere. Mizu no kuni is isolated, and has a different climate." She stopped, and left the rest to her apprentice. She was not suprised to see the clever girl's eyes light up as the answer occurred to her.

"Of course," she sighed, impatient with herself for forgetting the significance of this, "Kotone san's immune system would be geared towards a completely different set of illnesses. She has absolutely no immunity to this, and so it's worse than usual."

"Right," Tsunade smiled. "There's nothing to do but watch her, and keep an eye on that temperature. We don't have room in the hospital to keep her for something that could be done elsewhere."

Kurenai inclined her head thoughtfully. "But where? Who would be able to watch her for at least a week? Asuma and I have a mission tomorrow, Hatake san leaves again the next day..."

Tsunade glanced down at the schedule laid out under her coffee mug. "Well, there is someone..."

_vvvvvvvvv _

If Ume Kotone knew anything, it was this: It is never a good sign to wake up somewhere other than where you passed out.

She blinked, taking a ragged breath in slowly to avoid the coughing fit that happened anyways. This wasn't Kurenai's apartment, though it was similar. The only light was the warm orange glow that filtered through the curtains blocking the window. Blankets. There were blankets, and a pillow. The angle was odd... she was on the floor. A bedroll, then. And she was still freezing. Some asshole had left a fan running.

Kotone grit her teeth, and tried to prop herself up on her elbows. The glance of the room she ascertained before feeling lightheaded and collapsing again set her in the living room of a place that was indeed much like Kurenai's, though painted a pale yellow and more sparsely decorated.

"Ah! You're awake!" She knew she knew that voice, and she knew it wasn't good, but why, and who....?

"Where am I...? What happened?" Had she been more alert, Kotone would have been disgusted with the frailty of her voice.

"You're sick," the voice- it was a man, and damnit she knew she knew who it was- answered gently. "You were out with Kurenai, and you fainted. Do you remember?"

Yes.... She nodded weakly, and her eyes fluttered open. The man stepped closer, and.... suddenly she remembered the voice's owner.

Oh dear gods above, no.

And that was when Kotone realized what must have happened. She'd known there was no way to have survived as she did. Hoshigaki Kisame, the most feared name to come out of Kirigakure in the village's history, the "Scourge of the Hidden Mist Village..." one didn't survive an encounter with the likes of him.

She had died. This _**was**_ hell....

...and Maito Gai was her punishment.

* * *

XD WORST. ILLNESS. NAME. EVER.

I fail, I know XD;;;

For anyone who cares, because I'm a tard, the fainting scene is based completely off something that happened to me XD with the exception of the coughing, and like, the dialog after. And I was at an interment XD so there I am, horizontal in a cemetary....

Anyways! Hope you liked it XD Goodnight, everyone! Have an awesome day :)


	11. Chapter 35 FIXED

A test run of another version of chapter 35, that I'll probably replace the one in the fic right now with. Kinda the same, but with all the annoying OOC fluffy bullshit cut out, improved thanks to Rayle's helpful feedback n.n

Disclaimer: Naruto belongs to Masashi kishimoto

* * *

He had hated her from the moment he'd first laid eyes on her.

Filthy and barefoot as he; tiny, shivering, curled close to herself to safeguard warmth she didn't possess. The wooden bench was hard and unforgiving, but still she lay fast asleep, oblivious to the goings on around her. Unaware of the jonin discussing their fate, and unaware of the mongrel child studying her with disgust.

She slept on, trusting the charity of cold-blooded strangers to keep her safe.

This was no ninja. To be compared to this pathetic little creature was beyond any insult he'd ever before had to suffer.

That he could remember the feeling of thirteen years so vividly amazed him, but it was facilitated by the resilience of his resentment and the persistence of her annoyance. The panicked choking of her breath was all that proved she lived still– and that would end soon enough– finally.

He had always known it would come to this. From the day his eyes truly opened to the cruel world they knew, all those years ago, he had known what he would have to do.

He could remember well enough, through the haze of time and panic. The jolt of reality through his blissfully existence of denial and child's play. When being shinobi was a goal, and not a mind set. But he'd heard, and he had understood. All their training, and all their suffering would be for nothing: one was to die by the other's hand.

So all of his training and torture and misery had been for what? He was simply proving himself worthy of dying by a final, accursed ritual? He wouldn't lose, of course, he knew full well that the kunoichi was nothing against him, but the very idea of being toyed with in such a manner....

It wasn't bloodlust that had led him to the older students; he hadn't yet tasted that. But something beyond himself had driven him past their training ground, and some force deeper than conscious thought had taken the knife. He ignored the sleet and rain and cold. He was on a mission he'd yet to really understand, and it was only when he stepped into the chamber that he knew why he was there.

He wasn't one to be trifled with. He had to let them know it.

They'd been standing, close together and smiling against the wall when he entered. So they didn't know yet. A scrawny little third year, slipping in through the door unannounced and uninvited had done nothing but draw stares and raise eyebrows. He was here to prove himself.

There was only one girl in the room. She was closest, and he continued towards her without a moment's hesitation. He raised his arm, and calmly drove it through her throat, watching as though entranced at the blood that poured fourth as she fell gasping and sputtering to the ground. Zabuza's lips pulled back slowly, and he smiled.

Killing... was remarkably easy.

Her partner, pale and wide eyed, had stepped towards him still preoccupied with his her gasping, dying form. He felt no sympathy, and lunged again. It pierced the older boy's abdomen, and he collapsed on top of his friend.

He would always remember the pause. The moment of complete stillness before all hell broke loose. Then the others fell upon him.– and he'd cut them all down, one after another. He remembered only the smell of blood, the pounding of his thrilled heart, and the unequalled satisfaction he felt as each one fell.

And then he'd found himself before their infuriated Kage. He'd proved himself a force to be reckoned with, but that was no longer enough for him.

He'd known immediately the course he had to take. The country's Daimyo were his puppets; the Land of Water was Hachidaime's. It was for this man he'd sweat, and suffered, and bled. It was because of this man that his village starved, that mama had-

He knew. It was only this man who had the power to change these things. Only this man's fate wasn't chained eternally to another's will. Zabuza would take this position for himself. He would set things right; and so he wasn't afraid when their makeshift god addressed him. He knew something the older man did not. He knew how he would meet his end.

Tonight was the night, and with this final obstacle removed, he could go about realizing his ambition. Ume Kotone had been a thorn in his side for far too long.

The usual spark of wit had long since left her eyes, and they stared at him, bewildered and blameless. Even as he took hold of her weapon, there was no fear. She didn't have sense enough left to be afraid; pathetic. His face crinkled in distaste as he raised the unfamiliar weapon. It was enough like Kubukiri Hocho to be passable, but too different to be agreeable. Zabuza stepped closer, and touched the blade to the back of her neck, taking aim. Ceramic charms, missing the friend she still clutched to her chest, clicked as he raised it sufficiently. The black, demon-warding cat stared at him accusingly as it spun on its thread between him and his prey. He scoffed at the idea.

Kiyoshi was not designed for beheading, but he was strong enough, he knew, to drive it clean through her neck regardless. Well, not cleanly, but it would do, and he drove it downwards with the necessary force.

The blade stopped short, a hair's width from it's mistress's skin. He'd had a thought. "You poor stupid creature." He chided, shaking his head. She didn't respond. Zabuza grimaced at the disagreeable prospect of holding an enemy so close, but knelt to gather her in his arms.

Ume Kotone, foolish as she may be, was a member of the shichinin for a reason. If it weren't so, he could have simply dealt with her when the need arose and not in the

pre-emptive fashion he'd chosen. If she fought him, he was uncertain of the outcome. A victory would be hard-won, besides, and would no doubt leave him too weak to win another battle. If she died now, the village would be missing one of its strongest come morning...No, she would be of much greater use to him alive.

He turned, standing, as the crunching of snow and underbrush alerted him to someone approached.

"Zabuza San...?"

"What are you doing here?" The demon growled, "I thought I told you to get the others. I'll handle this."

"I have, Zabuza san. They're ready as they can be, and waiting where we agreed. You've been an awfully long time. I was afraid there'd been a problem." Haku replied placidly as he approached. Zabuza knew from his pace the second he grasped the scene before him in the darkness. He stopped, and cocked his head to one side curiously.

"Not a problem," the older man answered, "this won't take long. I can't afford to weaken the village I'm to seize; best get the kunoichi to a medic."

"I see." The boy nodded, his usual placid smile taking it's place across his features.

"Haku."

"Yes, Zabuza san?"

"Hikyuu's mask is at the house, correct?" The boy looked bewildered, but nodded and awaited an explanation. The village lights were fading as the night grew darker still. Nonetheless, Haku could see the other man nod. "Good. I want you to take it, destroy it, and join the others." Haku agreed immediately, but the puzzlement on his features justified elaboration. "Kotone isn't of the same as I," he began, taking a more secure hold of the lifeless girl sagging in his grasp. Zabuza and Kijin were synonymous– two aspects if not simply two names for the same whole. Hikyuu was different; nothing but a mask and a hollow interior created to serve the village. She hadn't changed when she'd taken up the alias– it was an alien set of values, characteristics and behaviours that the mask invoked. Kotone was possessed by a demon of her own creation. She shared her body with the Leopardess willingly, if only to please their Kage.

It disgusted him.

Kotone was also replaceable. Hikyuu existed only in the mask– it could be passed to another after her death. Aoyama Naoko would take up the role when Ume Kotone met oblivion, and no one would be the wiser; another would replace her in turn. Hikyuu was immortal as long as the mask could be inherited. If it was destroyed, Hikyuu would be given a face. Kotone was ridiculously stubborn and nothing if not strong-willed: the two could not exist simultaneously. If the infernal mask was destroyed, Kirigakure no Hikyuu died with it.

Haku scampered off to do as he'd been asked.

Zabuza pushed himself to his feet, holding her fast against his chest with one arm, the other in the crook of her knee, and took to his heels. He had things to be doing, and would not allow this idiot to set him any further behind schedule.

_vvvvv_

Haku ran a small hand over the polished surface, tracing the cat-like tear-track pattern of red from the eye and down the cheek curiously.

He bit down on the mutinous chill setting into the pit of his once-starved stomach. Zabuza san had taken Kotone san somewhere safe, for help. Of course she would be alright, and after tonight, she'd no longer be an enemy. Once Zabuza san's dreams were realized, they'd have nothing to fear from Kotone san. He wouldn't have to hide anymore.... That thought filled his heart near to bursting, and a smile spread across his round, young face.

Unless, of course, he failed. Zabuza san had warned him time and time again that he faced great peril; what awaited them if they were caught– torture, misery, death. He knew why they had a few days rations and supplies stashed away at strategic locations on the outskirts of the village. But Haku was happy. He'd gladly die for the man who'd given him a reason to live– his life was Zabuza san's to begin with.

Still, he found himself hesitating at the order, and hugged the supposedly demonic mask tightly, guiltily. Zabuza san always valued his ideas. _Whatever you're thinking, spit it out. You have a good head on your shoulders_, he'd told the boy whenever he hesitated with his opinion, _you're clever–_ _that's of use to me too. _And Haku had just had an idea– a good idea–and Zabuza san was nowhere around. He would simply have to trust his own cleverness...

He didn't have to destroy the thing. Kotone san had, despite his teacher's warnings, become precious to him, and if he simply kept the mask from her it reached the same end. The mask could be of use, still. He would give it a new face.

The boy smiled at the thought of the fast approaching chance to prove his worth to Zabuza san, and the prospect of safety before flitting from their home to the place where they'd stored their supplies, and carefully– surreptitiously– tucked the mask into his pack.

_vvvvvv_

It wouldn't do to let her die, he assured himself. She was valuable; of use still and no threat to his aims. When morning came, their kage would be gone. Kotone was not the type for vain loyalty; she'd have no allegiance to a dead master. It was worth it of only to see the look on her face, he decided, as pines and birches whizzed past. The expression when she found the man she'd been so faithful to cut down while she'd been powerless to stop it. She couldn't die now. He hadn't had a chance to gloat yet. He made the mistake of glancing down again.

She would never forgive him for this, but that was of little consequence. He would be her kage, and she would be obligated to do as he told her. It didn't particularly matter that the ninja were at all fond of their leader, so long as they were obedient.

The sound of his feet as he flew over the icy ground changed as the forest faded into street. It was preferable that she live, but if she died, so be it. Kotone was replaceable, after all. Aoyama could fill her role with ease, and as Misao had trained him, Zabuza could always tutor whoever it was who took up Kiyoshi.

He turned to push through the hospital doors with his back, refusing to sacrifice his speed, and startled the small woman carrying boxes of supplies towards a stairwell. Shinju's eyes went wide, and the cartons of gloves and surgical masks clattered hollowly to the ground. "What happened?" She demanded, and Zabuza found himself caught off guard. His mind was playing tricks on him– it was the stress of the battle he knew to be imminent, he suspected– and he hadn't noticed her move. Shinju had seemed to simply appear beside him.

"I found her this way," he lied.

"Set her down," the medic ordered anxiously, thin black eyebrows knitting, round, grey eyes troubled with concern. He didn't like this place. He'd never liked it. Though the huge, dark, concrete space was less intimidating to his now adult height, the smell of charred flesh would always follow him here; charred flesh and antiseptic, and dirty, rainwater soaked hair. It reminded him too much of being smaller– weaker. He moved to the side of the room, and the wooden benches set there for concerned families and nervous patients, and set her down.

"There's no pulse....Not good...." She muttered distractedly, before gritting her teeth, and focusing her chakra. The green light spilled between her fingers as she set to work hurriedly.

"Zabuza senpai," He was as surprised at Shinju's accusatory tone, but said nothing, and watched the smaller ninja– if shinju could be called a ninja– warily. "This seems to be a poisoning, and there's little I can do. If I manage to get her heart started, there's no guarantee her it won't stop. In fact, there's almost no chance it won't." Zabuza nodded, and started for the door– there was no more use in being here– but she stopped him. "I've never seen you leave a murder half finished." She remarked dryly.

"Hm?"

Shinju's features twisted into an accusing frown. "Ume Kotone would never take her own life. It isn't her own. Her life belongs to Mizukage Sama, after all." Her tone was more bitter than suited her. "That leaves only you." The demon frowned at the accusation, and he growled low in his throat. "I suppose that mean now's the time, then."

"How did you....?" His brow furrowed, but he sighed as the answer struck him. Of course. "Misao."

Shinju nodded. "Someone had to lead us after Senpai died. He chose me as his sucessor." Us... the other group of traitors. Kasumi Shinju was leading the other group of rebels. It was perfect: who could suspect the village joke?

Zabuza sneered, and crossed his arms over his chest. "You?" he taunted. "The old man was clearly losing his sense. You're useless." And then, she was gone.

"I'm stronger than you think." Came her voice, from behind him. " I don't employ all my talents...that doesn't mean I have none." she finished, back at the patient's side. He'd never seen her move. Not even he was that fast– _**no one **_was, unless....

"Ah.... so that's how it is." Her round, normally gentle and now horrifically familiar eyes met his unwaveringly. She nodded. "What is it you want?"

"Don't act," she answered quickly. "At least, not now. I can't begrudge you your aims, but you're going about this all the wrong way. You can hack our kage into as many pieces as you like, nothing will change. Bloodshed begets more bloodshed. Who's to say you wouldn't be every bit the monster Hachidaime was?" Shinju explained. She meant to rally every civilian and ninja who'd listen. If everyone stopped fearing the kage, and tolerating oppression, she insisted, things could change. "Join us. Misao had always wanted to combine our initiatives. He'd meant to add your group to ours."

Zabuza's hands clenched into fists; Ogakuzu, again. So he was to be pitied, observed_** and**_ used, then? Zabuza sneered. He would have none of this. The ambitions of a dead old man were not his concern– only his own, and now was the time.

He turned on his heel, and left without another word, ignoring when she called after him.

Things were clearer in the darkness. The mist that curled along his ankles by day had dissolved, and left the road sharper. The sky, however, remained hazy. It was a peaceful night– unfitting but convenient– and the villagers dreamt peacefully, unaware of the demon prowling the streets below them with murder on his mind, and a taste for blood on his lips. They had nothng to fear, though. He had only one quarry in mind. _Not yet, _he's told himself again, and again as he choked back his hatred. _Yes,_ he thought finally, _now. _

He started for the meeting place, breathing deeply to center his resolve. The demon smirked. At long last.... Tonight his plans came to fruition.

_vvvvvv_

This time, thee body he carried was considerably lighter as he flew over the frozen ground.

Haku's eyelids flickered open and shut as he, and the two men trailing behind him, fled the infuriated shinobi they could no longer see, but knew would still be pursing them doggedly. The handful of others who had survived had broken off earlier in a different direction, and the two near-identical men still eyeing their leader incredulously were close to the point where they too were to break off from the group, and head for their own stash of supplies and hideaway.

The brothers, as well as the rest of the Demon's followers, had been dumbfounded to see their leader take flight, barking an order that had never before passed his lips– retreat.

He didn't understand it himself, and the frantic beating of his regretfully real heart against his chest had only begun to relent. It had gone all too well... the others fended the surprised guards and coincidental late-workers near effortlessly_, _and his prey had been alone and off guard in his office despite the late hour– or so he had thought.

The kage had only smiled as Zabuza drew his weapon, and his gloating died on his lips the moment the other man met his had stood, and approached the transfixed traitor leisurely, until they were face to face.

An oddity finally occurred to him, as he stared into crimson eyes, filled near to bursting with a nameless, groundless dread that locked his knees and his stomach churned rebelliously, threatening sudden, untidy illness. He had known nothing of terror until now. There was no precedent for the bizarre and unexplainable fear that had taken hold of his once unshakeably will.

His eyes.... his entire face.... Zabuza had never seen it before. It was a stranger staring him down with those terrible, inhuman eyes. It was a foreigner.

"You've never seen a real demon, have you?" The man– the younger man's brain was screaming an explanation but the panic didn't allow him to cipherit– looked only mildly irritated. "I have. They level cities and being entire nations to their knees. But you? You're nothing to that. Demon– hah!" The black haired man sighed. "I could kill you," he admitted, "but you could serve a purpose yet; a distraction..." The stranger who was Hachidaime's lips curved into a cruel smile. "Run."

And he had. Without sense or explanation he had taken to his heels on the fear's momentum.

It was the boy's talents that saved them. With a burst of chakra that had left him half-dead, Haku had frozen the main and most convenient exit to the building closed in a sheet of ice that would take days to thaw.

Gozu and Meizu shot him a final skeptical look before veering off to the left, into the forest, the sound of their chains rattling behind them fading as they disappeared between the spruces. Their own cache of supplies and equipment was a bit further along. The things he had never really intended to resort to... In a few days, when things had begun to calm down, they would rendezvous with the rest of the group, and leave the Land of Water. Temporarily, he assured himself. They were alive, and he now knew what it was he had fallen prey to.

The Sharingan; a dojutsu from across the sea, the pride of Konohagakure no sato. 'Mizukage sama' was an Uchiha, and a powerful one at that. The skill needed to cast a genjutsu capable of completely eradicating his face from the memory of all who saw him without alerting them to the trick...? Let alone instill a terror so deep in someone as cruel and unfeeling as he was. But no matter– Zabuza would find some way around the Kekkei Genkai...

Once he determined how to defeat the Sharingan, he would return, and he would succeed. This insult would not go unpunished.

"Zabuza san...?" The boy stirred in his arms, and glanced sleepily at their surroundings; the firs and birches whizzing by at an incredible speed. The older man grunted to indicate having heard, slowing and halting as they reached the stashed supplies. "Is Kotone san going to be angry with us?"

Zabuza glanced down at the child, before shaking his head and setting the boy down. They would be safe here, for the night. "No, Haku. She won't."

It wasn't a lie. There was no longer a Kotone to be angry. She was dead or dying-- there was no use pretending otherwise, but Haku was still lamentably compassionate, and there was no use upsetting him unnecessarily.

Haku smiled, as he ran to his small, well-stocked backpack. "What happened, Zabuza san?" Haku was sharp, and Zabuza wasted no time in explaining what had passed before their flight. The boy proved remarkably insightful, and could perhaps make something of the story that Zabuza himself had missed, or failed to consider.

Haku listened intently, nodding, as he dug his blankets from the pack, and giggled to himself as he re-buried his stolen treasure at the bottom of the bag. Best not to let Zabuza know about the mask until he had a chance to give it a new face.

Hopefully, Kotone san would be alright without it until they returned.

* * *

I think that felt better XD


	12. Like No One's Watching

I'm not entirely sure where this came from XD; it's this bizzare fusion of two little ideas I'd wanted to write. One I couldn't find an ending for, and the other a beginning. So... I'm not sure if this is fluff or what XDDD I've been so in love with GaiKotone recently, I fgured I needed to reZabuaziffy myself. That isn't a word, but it should be. I can't think of anything else to say, really, sooo.... I hope you enjoy it!

Disclaimer: Naruto Belongs to Kishimoto Masashi  
Title: Like No one's watching  
Warnings: Violence, language  
Canon: Yes  
Fic Spoilers: no  
Setting: Pre series (17 years), Kirigakure no Sato  
Summary: Not everything involved in a young ninja's training is entirely dignified...

* * *

The list of 'things Momochi Zabuza hated with a passion' seemed to increase daily. He'd always despised snoring, comments about the obvious drop of Lightning Country blood in him, and knuckle cracking ("Ume Kotone," he imagined, was scrawled indefinitely in the margin somewhere), but the academy was giving him a great deal of additions to the mental roster of things that irked him- days like this, for example, where the snow was deep and still falling, the temperature unbearable and the wind piercing. This sudden manifestation of Susanoo's wrath had reduced any attempt at training outdoors to a clumsy blundering through waist high snowdrifts, and near-immediate frost bite, provided one did not sooner fall to their demise on the treacherous, icy path dug into the cliff face.

Not all shinobi skills, he'd learned, were interesting. As even the instructors refused to venture into the storm, the last few days had been nothing but lessons in disguising oneself (which could at least pique his interest), navigation, emergency first aid, and _Tairikugo_,the strange dialect spoken on the continent, (with regional variations of course), that shared both their alphabet and writing. Although reading and writing was identical in both languages, the immense difference in pronunciation and expressions made it the bane of his existence and the top spot on his list.

That was only until the dancing began. The dancing dethroned it immediately.

He didn't buy the bullshit the instructor spouted about blending in. He would never be caught in the middle of a Waterfall village festival, and if he was, surely there would be some people not moving their bodies like idiots to an irregular drum beat that had given him a headache. Surely there were at least a few people there with some sense? Apparently not, and he was still forced to learn.

He hated the bizarre foreign music that, to him, sounded like noise; he hated the young man barking orders; and most of all, he hated whichever sadistic bastard had decided that all of the Grass Country's dances should be to a count of six.

"Four, five.... _**Turn**_, morons."

Kotone, her tiny hand still in his, twisted around only to collide with him when he stepped the wrong way. He tried to correct himself, now off the beat, and ran into her once more. She giggled as they bumped noses, and returned to her infuriatingly graceful understanding of the rhythm. Of course _**she**_ was good at it. He often found himself wondering if this girl existed for the sole purpose of vexing him.

The pair next to them staggered by, both boys' round, childish faces scrunched in disapproval. One's was hidden on their side by his mop of wavy chestnut hair. "I'm leading." His partner insisted.

"Why?"

"Because I'm the man." He grinned, pleased with himself.

"Oh." He paused, nonplussed. "Hey, what does that make _**me,**_ then!?"

Well, as annoying as a female partner was, least he was spared _**that**_. Though Kotone had insisted on leading once or twice, and begrudgingly, he'd let her.

The particular beat their teacher had been pounding against a makeshift drum, that was usually a projectile-target, stopped and changed in both pattern and origin. He recognized this one from the day before, but the instructor called it out anyways. Why in the world did people from the fire country have to dance so close together?

Kotone remembered better than he did, (how did they expect him to remember pointless, delicate things like this, anyway?) and adjusted their distance, bringing herself closer.

Zabuza fumed silently, going through the motions as the annoying not-drum pounded. He was a fighter, not a dancer. Leave this sort of thing to someone like Kotone, with her unnecessary movements and near-unnerving flexibility. His hands were for hand seals, his bones and joints and muscles for kicking and punching, not-

Kotone spun again when the cadence cued her to, but swung inwards taking his arm with her, so that she ended against his chest in a strange sort of embrace before turning the other way and ducking under his arm.

He supposed this wasn't entirely unpleasant.

Well....What he _**meant **_was, at least she was enjoying herself. If this kept her from whining, it couldn't be all bad. She was smiling, and bobbing her head to music that wasn't there as she darted back and forth, the lively footwork that served her so well in a fight matching the song, her pigtails streaming blithely behind her.

"Oh, this is fun!" She exclaimed (much to his irritation), but he remained oddly spellbound by her unexpected grace. Honestly, outside of the battlefield (and, he supposed, the dance floor) she was hardly one you'd expect to be graceful. She was impish, quick to anger, and had taken quite a liking to a few unsavoury words she'd overheard the older men in the barracks toss around.

"Zabuza Kun!" She'd stopped suddenly, offbeat, and gestured frantically behind him. Still stuck in the odd hop back the choreography called for, he turned just in time to collide with (and almost knock over) another, older instructor who had been circulating, and correcting bad technique.

"Lousy little mutt bastard!" The man growled, taking hold of the boy's throat, and throwing him across the room. He hit the nearest wall squarely, and groaned as he then thumped to the ground.

Kotone squeaked, teeth sunk into her lip, and hands over her eyes. They'd long since learned to wait until they could be certain their teacher's wrath had burnt itself out before rushing to the other's beaten side. Interfering only made them angrier, and ensured an even sounder beating for them both.

He knew it wasn't about dancing when the man drove his foot into his rib cage, and he knew that the man wasn't stomping on him because he'd been bumped into. He knew that the obvious wasn't the reason– it was never the reason– but couldn't imagine what it was. Perhaps they simply wanted to prove that anyone with enemy-blood had to be weak.; perhaps they hit Kotone because they were sure she'd cry. Perhaps it was the same for every pair, and he simply didn't pay them enough mind to notice. Perhaps the adults were simply angry people, though he couldn't see what they had to be angry about– they were free already. They were strong; the world was cruel, but they could defend themselves.

He couldn't; not now, but one day. There would come a day when he'd be far too strong to be trampled anymore, or be forced to stand idly by while she was. He'd be come stronger, and would never again be plagued by helplessness.

It was with this thought that the waking world left him.

vvvvvvvvv

The chunin gave up once his target went limp, and Kotone wasted no time. Hastily, all grace forgotten, she dashed to the place he had collapsed, and plunked to her knees beside him.

"Class dismissed." The man growled, as the ghosts that comprised the rest of the class filed out quietly. This was not an uncommon occurrence; no one was startled anymore when a student was kicked half to death.

"Hey, Zabuza kun!" She whispered sharply, eyebrows arching in concern, before gingerly nudging his shoulder. "Hey, come on, wake up! Please...? Come on...." She whimpered, biting her lip again nervously and shaking the unconscious boy a bit more roughly. The weather was horrible, and the entire academy was freezing cold. Medic nin, being a valuable and rare commodity, visited only occasionally, and civilian nurses avoided the shinobi-populated institutions like the plague. Academy students were considered less than useless– not yet shinobi, but with higher expectations places upon them than any civilian– and the medics would never brave this storm for their sakes. Taking him to the sometimes-occupied nurse's office would be in vain, although an medic's treatment would be idea. The eight year old growled, and bit back discouraged tears. "Fuck!" She sighed, "Fuck, fuck, squidfucking son of a _**bitch**_." The older men used that last one a lot, and she'd always liked the sound of it. She'd no idea what it meant, but she understood the usage well enough– expressing extreme frustration– and it seemed fitting.

He had yet to stir, and her eyes darted around the empty training room desperately, for anyone who could help– who _**would **_help. No one would, of course, she knew that now. They were here to prove their worth; to fend for themselves... for one another. "Ok," she said, more to assure herself than the ragdoll of a boy she was trying to pick up without damaging anything important. Something crackled ominously when she tried to throw him over her shoulder; she squeaked and hopped back, letting him fall to the ground with another undesirable sound. "Sorry! Sorry!" He moaned but remained inert, eyes still closed.

"Um..." Kotone pursed her lips, and furrowed her brow as she contemplated other strategies. She scooted between his crumpled form and the wall, hooking her hands under his armpits, and shuffled away, listening anxiously for any more 'Kotone-cut-that-out-you're-breaking-him' sounds.

There were some odd glances thrown in her direction by the other students she never really considered, and jonin from behind open barrack doors, but none stopped to help, or hinder her as she scuttled past, muttering reassurances– again, mostly for her own benefit.

The hallways looked different this way: half-stooped, and towing an unconscious boy behind her. The sound of his legs and shoes against the stone floors, as she dragged him, was getting unnerving, as was the strain on her lower back.

Finally, after what seemed like an eternity, she reached the open door to their abandoned dormitory; the others had all flitted away to their next lesson, and this left the room eerie. Not that she ever paid the other students any mind, but their presence did something to the ambience, or, at least, the acoustics. Without dozens of small bodies making noise and having noise bounced off of them, the slightest sound was caught by the walls, and tossed about until it faded.

They'd realised, long ago, that two people can fit well enough on a single bedroll, provided that one's willing to sleep mostly on top of the other one. It was warmer that way; two bodies heating a smaller space. Piling their mats on top of each other, and simply sharing the one was ideal– it was far from comfortable, but it stopped a bit of the floor's cold from seeping through. That they managed to coordinate this in pitch blackness always amazed her. She set him down on the floor, guiltily, and set to arranging it now; lugging her thin bedroll and blanket across the small divide between their areas, before dragging him over to it, in turn. It was cold out, and if they'd been taught anything about keeping an injured party alive, it was the necessity for warmth.

She tucked him in carefully, mindful of his bruises, which were beginning to show through his ashen skin. She prodded at one near his hairline, frowning as she pushed his hair back to study it more closely. "I'll be back in a sec," she told him, ill at ease leaving him here alone like this, but darting off just the same, little feet flying down the hallway.

She skidded to a stop twice before the wrong rooms, only to walk once into an empty classroom, and then be chased out of another by a furious pair of half-dressed chunin.

Finally, though, she poked her head (much more cautiously, this time) into the darkened nurse's office. They had a meagre first aid kit between them, but she didn't think it would suffice, and so began searching for supplies she could pilfer. Bandages... she'd need a lot of those, as well as something to clean out the cuts with... on tiptoe, she recognized a small bottle, and knocked it off of the counter, plunking down next to it on the floor. She couldn't read the label, but it looked– and smelled– familiar to the same clear, stinging, fluid she was familiar with, and so she ran off again, back to her injured partner's side, stolen treasures tucked safely under her arms.

Kotone tore back down the hallway, and dropped roughly to sitting beside the stacked bedrolls, without really slowing. "Back," she set the supplies down, and leaned over him to ensure that he was still breathing. His eyes– one of which was darkening to a purple colour, near the temple– flickered behind his eyelids; mouth parted slightly. She wondered if she also looked this strange knocked out? Probably– except that he had pulled her out of a freezing stretch of ocean, and she'd been waterlogged, and turned blue in places, so, much stranger.

She crept a bit closer, and examined his injuries in greater detail. He was bleeding, red patches seeping through his tattered shirt, but nothing profuse. It was infections that needed to be prevented; the rest were bruises– she really should have gotten him some ice, somehow, but no... she had to keep him _**warm**_, so that would be awfully counter productive.

Kotone managed to tug his shirt over his head, and set to the torn skin. She rolled a section of bandage into a ball, and soaked it with the disinfectant. He winced, and groaned again when she began dabbing at the cuts with it. Yes, this was _**definitely**_ the right stuff...

Zabuza wasn't starving any longer; he had put on a healthy bit of muscle since she'd met him, but he was still scrawny in build. It seemed to cling to his bones rather than cover them. The boy's torso, neck and face were quickly becoming a patchwork of dark purples, blues and yellow tinges. She could see his ribs poking through the contusioned skin, and was glad to see that each appeared to be in its place; none moved as he inhaled, but he winced when she prodded. Bruised as well– or cracked even– but not broken. That was a relief.

She returned his shirt, once she'd cleaned each bleeding scrape and bandaged it as best as her limited training in medical practices allowed; but still, he felt lukewarm at best. Immobile as he was, nothing was really generating heat for the blankets to trap.

She smiled, absently, playing with the short, unruly sections of his dark hair. Kotone glanced behind herself, this way, then the other, then down at the boy to ensure his unconsciousness. "Zabuza?" she called in a singsong voice. "Zabuzaaa?"

He didn't stir, and the girl planted a short, guilty kiss on his cheek.

She giggled to herself, shamed and euphoric, but that faded when he still refused to stir. She frowned, and whimpered another silent complaint to no one in particular as the anxiousness crept back in.

It was getting late. There was only training time left, now, and her eyelids were already growing heavy. Her partner needed to be kept warm, and so she squeezed herself in beside him gingerly, mindful of his wounds. She'd dozed off a moment later, head resting on his less-damaged shoulder.

vvvvvvv

Opening his eyes to pitch blackness was a shock, but the sounds of deep, steady breathing throughout the room, as well as directly beside, confirmed his whereabouts. He wasn't dead. The feeling of warmth, and the movement beside him, stinging his bruised ribs where she rested also alerted him to his partner's well being.

"Kotone?" he wrinkled his nose in distaste at the croak he'd let out, and winced as he nudged the girl sleeping partially on top of him with his injured shoulder. "Kotone?"

"Zabuza kun?" She replied groggily, and he felt the covers shift. "Zabuza kun!" Her tiredness had seemed to clear a little. "You're alright? How are you feeling?"

"Sick," he hadn't realised it until he said it, but his stomach was churning uneasily, and his head pounded. "It's nothing. I'll sleep it off. I'll be fine."

"Oh," She settled down beside him again, adjusting her position as he hissed in pain, and they both somehow made themselves passably comfortable. "Zabuza kun?" She whispered after a silence.

He sighed, eyes shut, though it made no difference. "Yes?"

"D'you ever think about... you know...." he could practically feel her wince. "Death?"

He crinkled his nose again, wishing the visibility were better. She was whispering, but was it from a sudden timidity, or simply courtesy? "Sometimes. Why?"

"You... you scared me. You wouldn't wake up, I was afraid that maybe... well..."

"Nothing you could have done about it." He remarked, dryly, though his mouth twitched into a frown as he said it. "No use worrying."

"What happens after, d'you think?" she pressed quietly, and he grunted his distaste.

"I don't know," he snapped.

"All I do know," Kotone said, voice thick and cracking– or it could have been his imagination, he was tired, dizzy, and she was whispering to begin with. "Is that when you die, you go away and never come back, like Mother, and Father...I... I don't want to have to miss you, like that." Zabuza was taken aback by this. She snuggled a bit closer, and tried to swallow the lump in her throat, thankful that the darkness hid her glassy eyes; that no but the one person she trusted could see this frailty. "You're my friend. I've never had a friend before... I... I don't know what I'd do without you..."

"Look, just shut up." He shook his head, despite the pain it caused. "You won't have to worry about that. I'm not going to die anytime soon, and neither are you. We're strong, after all." He sighed. "And when we do... I bet we'll go together."

"D'you really think so?"

"Yeah," he nodded. "I mean, you and I are pretty much on equal footing. We'd die fighting, of course, that's the only way for it, and any opponent strong enough to take out one would probably be able to manage the other then, right?"

"Y-yeah..."

"See? No missing of anyone."

"You really mean it?" She seemed to have perked up, and so he breathed another relieved sigh, and reassured her again before she happily went back to sleep, curled close.

Thinking back, though he couldn't imagine how, in some strange way, he'd known even then that it had been a lie.

* * *

Ok, so there we go n.n; I don't think I can write anything without Hatsuka worming his way in somehow. He always does that. Thanks for reading, and I hope you liked it!


	13. Asayuu II

I never thought I'd end up liking Gyouten as much as I do XDD

Anyways, part two. This took forever D: xD;

Oh, and "Asayuu" is a really lame pun XD;; Apparently, it means "morning and evening" which is what "Gyouten" and "Yuu" mean XD;;  
"Hirumae" means noon XD; I got so lazy with names.

Disclaimer: Naruto Belongs to Kishimoto Masashi  
Title: Asayuu  
Warnings: Violence  
Canon: Yes  
Fic Spoilers: No  
Setting: Pre series ( 42-25 years pre-series), Kirigakure no Sato

Summary: In the end, it hadn't amounted to anything...Kensuke was still dead, and Yuu was still crying.

* * *

"It's just a quick mission. I'll be back in the morning." A reassuring smile, and he kissed her forehead before darting off into the foggy blackness of the night, joining with another fast-moving shadow, and disappearing.

He'd had to tell her, of course. Yuu was sharp, and there was no way in any of the eighteen hells that she wouldn't have noticed he and Hirumae's sneaking around.

It had been seven years since Yuu had come to live with them. Her grandmother's death had come as quite a blow, and for weeks the distraught girl had sobbed and wept in that way he wished he was still capable of. The bakery had been taken from her, as she was too young to inherit it, being neither eighteen, or a genin of any age: their country's definition of 'adult'. And so, she had been offered a place in their small, but often empty cabin, which she had accepted temporarily. Though, very soon, it was quite clear that she both wanted to stay, and was wanted in turn. Hirumae was indifferent to her presence, as he was to most everyone's.

The nineteen year old sighed fondly, at the thought of the gentle, raven haired girl he'd come to hold so dear. He wasn't sure when the occasional hand hold, or friendly embrace had begun to mean a great deal more to him. It was only for her that he found himself really smiling anymore. She'd curl up beside him on the couch the nights his brother was away, and she'd giggle, and he'd be content and, for a time, could relax. The life of shinobi was harsh, and cruel, and he was blessed with the ability to assert a touch of humanity when the situation allowed it. A gift he attributed solely to her influence.

Bt tonight, as he and his older sibling stole through the village's darkened streets, there was a chill gripping his chest, and a unusual earnestness in his parting words. A quick mission...? An...understatement of sorts. Another dark figure perched on a nearby rooftop signalled to them, and they hopped up the building's side. The group assembled there was silent, and armed to their carnivorous teeth. It was Hirumae who had introduced him to the group of rebels, and Gyouten had agreed quite adamantly to help them achieve their ideals. He was... angry, he supposed. It was simply a sickness that settled into his heart when he thought of the wrongs he, his love, his friends, and the people of the village had been forced to endure; rage, he imagined would be more fitting, but it was only towards Yuu now that he held any real passion; fury, sadness, fear... they'd faded on the battlefield. The quiet of death and the blood of his enemies had long since diluted such feelings to near-nothing; but for whatever reason, he'd chosen to fight alongside the resistance, under the man who would one day, if they succeeded, become shichidaime Mizukage– and that day had come.

He sighed, pushing blanched hair from a bloodless face; no noise, no words. They knew the plan, and once the rest arrived, it would simply be a matter of implementing it. The rest eventually found their way to the gathering, and the order was given.

Dozens of shadows split, darting off in different directions through the deserted streets, Gyouten and his brother both flying towards their destinations in the village's headquarters; the younger to the main entrance with a group of men he knew faintly, the older to a window on the second floor.

A dread grew in his supposedly unfeeling heart as he, and his team slipped into the entrance of the mizukage's building. Death awaited each of the rebels, and failure would see them all lose their heads. Success was the only option, but Gyouten was reassured by the man he followed. The soon to be kage's ideals were invigorating. Though the potential shichidaime was not young enough to have lived through the genin exam himself, he had taken pity on them, and planned to make the genin trainee's lives more bearable.

_I'll see you avenged, Kensuke. _He _**would**_ see the kage who had betrayed him dead; it didn't matter who did it as long as it was done. And with that sobering thought, he melted into the shadows, gliding behind the chunin keeping lazy watch over the stairwell. The kunai was drawn across his throat before he could even think to cry a warning; and the dead sentry collapsed in a heap on the cold, tiled floor. He motioned an 'all clear' to the others, and the group treaded silently up the staircase, ever watchful.

Yuu had thrown a fit when he'd first told her that he intended to join the Assassinations division as a hunter-nin. He could only imagine her reaction to "Yuu, dearest, I'm going to help Hirumae'spsychotic friendsstage a coup d'état." Gyouten cringed.

Yes, it was definitely best not to have worried her.

They prowled into the stairwell, and were met by the clash of battle from above. Metal on metal, cries and shouts, handseals being chanted, and the rush of water, which trickled under the heavy metal door, forming diminutive waterfalls on the steps.

They emerged into the second floor hallway, and immediately into the fray. They'd been spotted, it seemed, and every loyal ninja in the building, and those surrounding it had come rushing to their kage's aid. The group of rebels launched into the melee, each leaping at a ninja they did not recognize as one of their own.

Well trained feet flew over the flooded tile with little noise, as he darted between opponents, throwing elbows and kicks at every visible opening. _Try not to kill. _They'd been warned. _These are our country's protection. We don't want to weaken the village any more than we have to._

As a talented member of the assassination division, this went against every instinct he possessed; but still he abided his leader's commands, and dulled each potential killing blow. He struggled towards the stairwell at the other end of the hallway, desperate to reach the upper level, and the greater fight above, in the man he knew he should loath's office. But someone always impeded him. Their numbers were few, and the enemy's force was growing steadily as other loyal shinobi heard the sounds of battle; heeding the call of their duty_. _

He made a break for the stairwell, ducking under an opponent's swing. Though he was stopped as other rebels, all shouting gleefully charged down the steps. The battle was over; the sixth water shadow lay dead.

Fickly by nature, the ninja ceased their battle. A new kage meant new leadership, and new devotion. The man himself held no place in their hearts, but the position he held had a overpowering grip on their mind set. They tucked their weapons away, and set immediately to the treatment of the damaged, and the destruction of the dead.

Gyouten charged past, stopping only to offer a respectful bow to their new kage, bounding up the steps two at a time. He'd searched the faces and forms of the men around him, and found one missing. The bodies were more numerous in the kage's hallway. Dawn was breaking, and large windows cast looming squares of hazy light against the walls and floor, sprawled corpses interrupted the morning's glow, and cast ghastly shadows. He poured over them, adjusting his glasses, as his eyes flickered over each in turn.

He let out a heavy sigh, catching sight of a familiar face: usually pale skin was ashen, dark hair spilling over the bloodied floor... Pale eyes- his eyes... their father's eyes... had been caught wide in shock when the senbon had pierced his trachea.

_vvvvvvvvv_

A scream seized his attention when he stepped from the crowd gathered before the newly occupied building. A dark blur flew towards him, and collapsed against his larger frame, clinging to his chest. Yuu was sobbing, face buried in his flack jacket.

"Yuu chan..." He whispered, in that sweet tone he barely recognized as his own. Perhaps it was the _**only **_voice that was really his own. The others belonged to some cold, nameless weapon that died in her presence. "Dearest, are you alright?"

She looked up at him, and her teary eyes narrowed, face fixing in a scowl. She pounded her fist against his chest a few times, letting out another frustrated cry. "You idiot!" He could only blink when she began sobbing again. "You disappear- Little mission, was it? Oh, yes! You were only trying to assassinate the blasted Mizukage. And then... and then!" Her voice became incomprehensible behind the squeaks and hiccups her tears caused. "And then I hear people talking about what's happened! Who'd we lose? Says one. Oh, Someone, Someone else, and UME! I must have heard wrong, but... Oh! I thought... I thought...!" She smacked him again for good measure.

"Yuu...You heard correctly..." Gyouten brushed a long strand of dark hair from her face. "Hirumae is dead."

A startled glance up at the young tracker stopped her tears only for a moment. She began again, harder, and clung even more tightly to the front of his flak jacket. "Oi, Yuu.. It's alright... The man was barely alive to begin with..."

He frowned, as the tiny glimmer of satisfaction the victory had given him vanished like so much morning fog. In the end, it hadn't amounted to anything. He'd lost the shade of a brother that, however vacant, had been his only family.

Kensuke was still dead, and Yuu was still crying.

"I'm sorry..." She whispered against the reinforced fabric over his chest. "I was so scared... I... I didn't want to lose you. " Yuu's eyes slipped shut, and she rested more calmly against him. "I love you...so much...."

Gyouten let out a soft breath, and held her tighter. A tiny smile pulled at pallid lips as he tested the perilous reply against them. Words that no shinobi should ever speak. But treason was in his blood tonight, and he cared little for the weakness his confession would imply. A quick glance at the other shinobi milling around marked him unnoticed, and he bent down to confide his answer quietly, against the shell of her ear.

"I love you too, Yuu chan. I always will."

_vvvvvvvvv_

"Y-you're sure?" The jonin gaped at his lover, who giggled, and nodded, hands trailing down to her lower abdomen lovingly.

"I'm sure. I checked with a medic."

"I...I..." He collapsed against the beaten sofa in the living room they'd occupied alone for two years now. His mouth moved without any sort of help from his brain. You could tell him that there were fifty enemy ninja hiding in wait for his tiny party of trackers, or that the entire Lightning nation was invading; He'd have registered, and reacted to both without batting a snow-white eyelash. But this... _**this**_...? "Is it.... A... wow...Boy, or girl?"

Yuu smiled, and with a roll of dark eyes, curled up next to him on the couch. "They can't tell yet, silly." He nodded numbly as his brain tried to process the unbelievable news. Not unbelievable, really, he did know how these things happened, but... it was simply too much to process. His gaze was still vacant, and Yuu frowned. "Honey... you're... you're happy, right?"

"What if I'm a lousy father?"

"Oh," She let out a breath at the spiritless muttering. "Gyouten Kun, you won't be." He grunted a listless reply. Yuu bit her lip, as something in her stomach tightened, and a painful lump formed in her throat. She coughed into her hand, before taking a deep breath, and letting the shaking question free."Something is wrong, isn't it? You... You don't want this, do you."

He held her a bit tighter, snowy hair shaking as he signed no. "It's not that...." His lips moved to form more words, but no sound came. He finally seemed to pick a suitable reply. "The draft law is still in place." She echoed the term back slowly, and he sighed. "A shinobi is..." He made a face. "Property of the village. Mizukage Sama owns us, and by extension... He owns any potential offspring as well. Parents can keep them until they turn eight- sometimes younger, in times of crisis- then they're sent to the academy; no exceptions."

Yuu's hands tightened their hold on his shirt, her face falling. "But... I.... Boy _**or **_girl? Well.. I suppose you'd planed for them to be a ninja anyways....I hadn't given it much thought."

"Kami sama,_** please**_ let it be a boy."

His tone had become frantic, and so Yuu- taking a moment between her bewildered expression and inquiry to cough violently into her hand- blinked as she waited for his reply, brushing off a question about her coughing. "You're changing the subject," she protested.

"Female Ninja are often..._**troubled **_individuals." He answered with a grimace. Yuu frowned, and forced him to explain in further detail. "Very few survive to see the graduation exam; let alone pass it. Teachers are harder on girls, as a general rule. They're expected to be unfeeling little tools, and since females have a more emotional disposition-" Yuu huffed at him, clearly annoyed by the statement. "- they're treated roughly to compensate, and often ignored." He sighed, and pushed his achromatic bangs from his eyes. "And the ones that do become kunoichi...Most go into decoding, or teaching, or medical ninjutsu. The ones who chose to enter into combat... Well...Occasionally It happens to men too, of course, but you can imagine the problem a kunoichi might have if overpowered, and restrained by male opponents of questionable morals....?" Yuu's eyes widened in horror as she caught the meaning. " It gets worse: I've been told that it's possible that a kunoichi be asked to complete a mission where, in order to keep her cover, she may have to agree to do something similar- or allow something similar to occur. I've been told they're trained how_** not**_ to fight back if doing so will jeopardize the mission."

Another coughing fit shook her as she curled closer to him, eyes nervous. "But... isn't that the kind of thing you said Shichidaime would fix?"

"Change takes time," He recited the words he'd received in answer when he had asked that question of their kage, himself. "Don't worry... by the time it's an issue, I'm sure thing will be better."

Yuu nodded her agreement, snuggled closer, and squeaking happily when he moved to kiss her. She broke away much to quickly, hand flying to her mouth to smother another series of wheezes and choking gasps.

"You should go to a medic for that." Gyouten informed her, white brows arched in concern.

"It's fine." She promised.

After three weeks, Ume Yuu found herself coughing up mouthfuls of blood daily.

After three months, it was hourly.

_vvvvvvvvvv_

"No."

It took the medic a minute to process the statement. She bit her lip, and tucked a strand of deep green hair, that had slipped from her bun, behind her ear. "I- ... Ume san," Gyouten jumped; he was unused to hearing someone else called by that name. People didn't "marry" formally in Mizu no Kuni– it was seen as a pointless waste of time and money– but, especially in the case of ninja, if one was willing to take on the nearly immeasurable shame associated with acknowledged affection, it roughly translated to the same thing. Calling her by his family name, or their calling her by her own 'husband's' was a tradition that had leaked in from the continent.

Not that all Mist ninja "mated for life" as it were. It was really one extreme or the other. The most of the children with shinobi blood came from brief encounters with near strangers, or even an opponent if the medical seal meant to protect a kunoichi from that sort of thing had been improperly set.

He knew for a fact that the woman who was glaring at Yuu- Gyouten was too busy gaping to be angry- was the mother of two of a jonin he knew vaguely's children: a girl about three years earlier, and a boy more recently. It was fairly common knowledge when shinobi had children, as it made them the butt of jokes and jabs until another couple had a little one. The Kasumi family would have to have finished their term as the village joke: Nezumi Kairi, the daughter of the current head of the Nezumi clan, young though she was, had her first son a few months ago. Not that any sort of jest could reach the rat-nin. They kept mostly to themselves. He supposed the scorn would fall on himself next- not that he could have possibly cared less.

It didn't matter anymore, anyways. It was only just beginning to sink in: there _**was**_ no baby. There would _**be**_ no baby.

"I don't think you understand. Your condition is life threatening." The medic insisted. Yuu shook her head, dark eyes fixed squarely on the other woman's. "If you don't take this medication, you are going to-"

"You say it causes birth defects,"

"Yes, but-"

"What kind?" She pursed her lips, and her fingers tightened around the edge of her chair.

"Severe defects in the lungs and heart..."

"So you're saying I'd lose the baby." The medic's eyes said what she could not bring herself to say. _Yes. _

"Six months." Yuu intoned, shaking her head firmly. "That's all I need. Six months, and then I'll take the stupid pills."

He should say something. Say something, or shout... tell her she was being an idiot. Yuu was- had always been- without exception, the most obstinate human being he'd ever come across. She'd out-stubborned Kensuke on occasion. "Yuu... Darling..." He whispered, hoping that the stranger didn't notice the gentle tone. "We can have other children. This is awful, I know, but you can't do this."

"I can, and I will," she replied, eyes pleading. "I can do it. _**Please. **_I can start once the baby's born... It's just six months... I'll be fine, really.... These drugs would kill him, Gyouten kun, I _**can't **_do that..._**" **_She'd been referring to the unborn child as male ever since their discussion of kunoichi.

He openedhis mouth to argue. If she died, he'd lose both anyways... But... she seemed so sure. He sighed, and grimaced. "Fine." He answered weakly. "We... we can wait...."

She threw her arms around his neck happily, but another bloody coughing fit broke them apart, and an ominous kind of cold settled somewhere in the pit of Gyouten's stomach. 

_vvvvvvvvvvvvv_

Odd things were happening in the village. A man had appeared. One without past, or name, or clear citizenship, or even a face. All knew of his presence, but no one had ever actually seen the newcomer their kage had, for some reason, welcomed and allowed into the ranks of his ninja.

It was unprecedented.

He shook his head, and kicked at a floorboard with the toe of his sandal. He didn't understand.

"Gyouten chan, come quick!" The sudden cry caught him off guard, and he sprinted to the room where he had thought his wife was asleep. She'd been looking horrible, and worse as the weeks ticked by. She was exhausted and matched his pallor; dark circles had formed under her once bright eyes, and her coughing grew ever deeper. The sickness was taking it's toll, but she always insisted that she could take a bit more... He'd been dreading this cry since he'd learned of her condition.

She was smiling when he reached her, sitting happily on the edge of their bed; one hand resting on her now-round stomach. "He's kicking." She announced gleefully. "This is so neat- Come feel!"

He sighed, the knot in his stomach untying itself. He'd assumed the worst....

Much more slowly, he drifted to her side, and plunked down beside his beaming lover, placing his hand next to her's, if only to humour her. His eyes, however, went wide as something did, in fact, nudge at his hand. Yuu caught his expression, and giggled.; Gyouten smiled in return. He supposed... for less than a newborn, that was actually rather impressive.

_vvvvvv_

There was no reason to have ever worried about her cries, or yelps.

When her lungs finally gave out on her, there was no way for her to make any real noise at all. And so he'd found her that way, returning home after a pre-mission briefing, doubled over on the living room floor, gasping and clutching at her throat.

He moved too slowly, he really did. Years of training and a jonin's jacket did nothing to keep the world from freezing in place as he realized what had occurred; did nothing to keep invisible lead weights from his feet as he fought the seeming- impossibly dense air to dash lethargically to her side, and then he was running.

He wasn't sure when he'd scooped her up, or if he had bolted in the right direction, but he ran. His mind had abandoned him, and instinct governed in its place. Yuu needed help. She needed a hospital. His feet pounded against the ice covered road, thoughts still a snowy blank- and then he was inside, and alone.

He barely remembered finding her...running... handing her over to the medic ninja.... He could see it though: her wide, frantic eyes; choked breath... Save the sickly blue that had crept to her lips, the colour had drained from her face; _**all **_of it.

He had begun to ground himself; clutching to the waiting room's wooden bench as if for dear life. The sickness that crept in where the haze retreated was all to familiar... he was a boy again; drenched in his best friend's blood and only just becoming aware of it. Except this time, there was no Yuu to comfort him.

He had known this would happen. How could he not have? Yuu was impossible, but he should have tried harder to make her see reason... She was so reckless with herself....

And then the medic called him– he was imagining that accusation in her voice, he had to be- and he was walking again, and she was babbling. "And at seven months, a baby _**is**_ viable, so there's a chance that-" he wasn't listening. He was too busy trying to keep himself from fleeing; if he saw it here– with his brain back to it's normal function, and real doctors to make sense of everything with words he couldn't understand- it would be real; and it was.

Yuu was real, the disease was real, and so was the machine she needed to breathe for her. Her eyes were closed, lashes stark against lurid skin, the translucent mask covering her mouth and nose eerie; her skin was unusually warm to the touch thought he felt her shiver.

His heart sank. It didn't look like his Yuu anymore. Yuu was happy, and rosy, and full of warmth and energy. This wasn't right. Yuu smelled always of cinnamon and bread flour; not disinfectant, and medicine, and...and.... _**hospital**_.

It was wrong, and it was unfair. But it was real, and he cursed whatever sadistic god hated him so. What had he done?

No- memories of a boy long past, and the smell of blood in the air reminded him of what it was he'd done. But why punish her? Why punish... oh no. His hand slipped from her cheek to her abdomen, and he waited.

Nothing.

For once, their quick, lively little child was still, and his heart caught in his throat.

But he waited, and waited, and waited... Shades of people he cared nothing for drifted by, in and out of the room as the windows grew darker. His free hand intertwined with her lifeless one; his knuckles went white as he held much too tightly in his panic to remain calm– nothing. No movement, no kick. No sign that there was anything alive beneath his trembling hand. Not Yuu, and not her baby. It was only the hiss of that blasted machine that told him she was still with him for the time being.

Time he had no intention of sharing with the man who had been standing behind him for a while now. "What do you want?" He'd tried ignoring the stranger, but he made no move to leave. Gyouten felt justified in growling.

"You're needed on a mission."

"Not now," he snapped.

"Yes now," the stranger insisted calmly. Almost... Gyouten grit his teeth; amused. "We've been hunting this man for more than a year now. This is the first real sighting of the target since that... attack on a village woman a little over a year ago. You remember it mentioned in the briefing this morning?" Gyouten grit his teeth. The target was supposedly inhabiting an abandoned little shack in the mountains to the east, near a small village. Whoever he was, he'd been seen a short while after fleeing the village a year and a bit earlier. He'd apparently 'attacked' (the way people said it, and the lack of elaboration told him well enough the nature of the crime) a woman in one of the smaller mountain communities nearby. The woman in question was far from well in the head to begin with, and gathering any sort of useful data had been nearly impossible. However, the encounter seemed to have left her with a child; the shinobi sent to confirm this indicated that the boy did indeed bear a striking resemblance to the nuke ninja they were tracking: a mutt, they'd called him.

"Hurry," the stranger whispered impishly. "If the target catches wind of this before you can get there, he'll slip through out fingers again."

Pale eyes narrowed behind strong lenses. "Find someone else."

"Since when does a weapon get to choose when and how it's used?"

There was a long moment of tensed muscles and hissed breathing as the tracker ninja fought to keep from turning and aiming a few choice senbon at this unknown ninja's eyes. Finally, he released his hold on the lifeless woman's hand, and allowed himself one gentle stroke of her cheek. "I'll be back soon," he promised, before turning on his heel; he wasn't entirely sure that his collision with the other man's shoulder looked as accidental as he meant it to. He gave up seeming diplomatic, and the dirty look he shot was impossible to misinterpret.

_vvvvvvv_

Each crunching footstep mocked him as he flew over the icy ground. Every second he wasted here, he pictured Yuu growing a bit weaker. Every tick of the clock brought her a bit closer to death's door.

How he thought his presence by her side might change that, he had no idea; but he believed it regardless. He needed to be beside her. Somehow, he'd keep her safe.

The mountains were brutal in December; the sky poking between the mighty firs that jutted up on either side, scattered irregularly, was a thick blanket of gray, which shed biting little flakes of ice on the poor creatures beneath.

The villagers had been eager to point out the supposedly abandoned, delapidate shed they claimed to be haunted. It sat presumptuous at the edge of the conifer clearing, the door hanging on its hinges at an angle reminiscent of a broken neck. He drew a kunai as he crossed the clearing towards the pitiful mess of wood and nails, anxious. He shouldn't be here, now, he shouldn't–

A dark blur caught the corner of his eye; Gyouten scarcely had time to brace himself as the thing– a person– that had launched itself at him connected. They fell in a jumble, struggling and grappling, and Gyouten found himself outclassed. This man; who he knew nothing of but a dark complexion and a large powerful build; was much stronger than the lithe mist jonin. The enemy's strong grip was intended for his throat– he could not allow that. Instinct brought his fingers to a hidden needle in his flak jacket, and experience drove it into his attacker's flesh. He found his opportunity to escape as his target howled in outrage and agony, hunched and swatting wildly at the offending senbon. Finally, skipping back a safe distance, he could take in the other man's appearance.

He supposedly dead heart threatened to fail him as he processed the dark hair and skin not warm enough in hue to belong to a lightning country native, the height and the proud, straight nose that seemed so alarmingly familiar. "Kensuke?"

The man met his eye; he knew once that it was not Kensuke. This man's eyes were wild; feral. All of his friend's warmth and vitality had been replaced with a cold sort of madness. His smile, sharp and unpleasant, confirmed his identity. "Junmaru," Gyouten corrected. Junmaru inclined his head in mock consideration.

"Have we met?"

Something set inside him. A resolve that moved his hand to his face of its own accord, and lifted the mask that concealed his loathing. The furious glint in his icy eyes did nothing but amuse the other; he drew himself up to an impressive full height, and strode closer.

"Ah, yes. Now I think I remember," he nodded. "You were my brother's little friend, weren't you? If you can really call yourself a friend, that is."

"Shut up." His voice was level, somehow. Even now, in the face of a man who had shown his dearest friend– his brother, no less– nothing but disdain, he felt nothing. He had forgotten the feel of rage, or perhaps this icy hollowness was it. He felt icewater where boiling blood should have been. He wanted to see this man dead, but there was no passion behind the desire.

"Oh, touchy, are we? Pah," Junmaru spat. "That's how it goes, isn't it? Weaklings die– the way of the world. You killed my worthless little brother, just as I'm going to kill worthless little you. It's beautifully simple." He drew a kunai from a holster strapped to his ratty pantleg, and darted forward.

Gyouten's body moved as years of fighting had conditioned it to. How he could be so focussed with his mind elsewhere, he wasn't sure, but as determination and the same sick dread that hadn't yet left him occupied his mind, he dodged and blocked and threw as the situation required. The sliver of metal he let fly found its mark, sinking into the other man's wrist. Another glimmer of reflected light, and he threw his hand out to seize it.

The look of shock on Junmaru's face did nothing to sate his anger as arterial blood spattered his glasses, and then the snow when the dying nuke nin. Gyouten's shaky breathing appeared in the cold air as staggering fog that melted into the clouds above. A few more of these breaths steadied him, and took him a step closer, and then another, and eventually granted him the strength to roll his kill over, face up. Gyouten smiled bitterly.

However different they had been in life, Junmaru and Kensuke looked eerily similar with their throats slit.

vvvvvvvvvv

He told the villagers that they were safe: he had killed the menace with his own two hands, and he would not be plaguing them again. He neglected to mention, however, that he had never before drawn so much satisfaction from obliterating a corpse. That, he believed, was best kept to himself.

The villagers kept well away from the bloodstained ninja, eyeing him with as much suspicion and horror as anything else. There was, however, one exception: a young woman, pale and dark blue eyed, who clutched her baby closer to her as he passed, otherwise frozen in fright. Her eyes showed a terror far greater than suspicion when their gazes met.

The tiny fingers that clutched at hers were nearly grey.

The sight of the young woman and her child– however unfortunate they both were– transfixed him. Panic crept into his petrified body, and he took to his feet as quickly as they would carry him, and ran, his only thoughts of home, and what may or may not be there waiting.

_vvvvvvvvvv_

He couldn't feel his legs, and yet somehow they carried him through the hospital doors, past the waiting room, around startled nurses and patients, and up the stairs to an empty bed. He recognized the medic checking charts at the far end of the room as Kasumi san, and felt his hands clench into fists as he approached her.

"Where is she?" The medic hesitated. Only restraint and weariness kept him from asking again with his hands around her throat. "There was a woman here by the name of Ume Yuu. Where is she now?"

The look on her face was enough. The feeble, pitying sympathies that followed did nothing but sicken him.

"There was nothing we could do," excuses, all of it. "However, we were able to save your daughter. Naturally, there have been some complications– "

His mind clicked much too rationally through her babbling. A listless reality had swiftly taken hold; he wasn't even granted the civilian indulgence of happy, ardent denial. The only woman he had ever loved– would_** ever **_love– had died for the sake of the parasite that had killed her. This brat was nothing to Yuu but salvaged scrap metal to a wreck; useless, worthless, palling in comparison to the original. A girl, no less. Yuu had died so that their child could lead an existence of inescapable misery. If they let him near the girl, he feared he might crush her between his hands.

"Mama?"

Gyouten whirled to lock eyes with the small girl he had failed to notice playing quietly in a corner. She was perhaps three, and, despite her youth, seemed to know enough– or little enough– to place herself between his murderous glare and the infant– a boy, he believed– who was sleeping soundly.

"Ume san," he heard the sea-green haired woman begin gently. "Would you like to see her?"

No, no, a thousand times no. He didn't want to see it, know it, or have anything to do with it. They could drown it, starve it, he didn't care; he refused to be responsible for the thing. He didn't want a face, however tiny, to associate with his dearest's death. No, no, never. A hundred times never, and a hundred times again."Yes," and he followed silently after as she led the way.

Crying and raspy squealing greeted them as Kasumi pushed a door aside, however many rights and lefts later. Babies in boxes, he thought as he passed the several warmed, plastic basins the infants were kept in. "We can't let her get cold," Kasumi said gravely, "but you can hold her for a short moment."

He could see the need for caution, as he peered into the 'box' she had indicated. Slowly, gingerly, and with still-bloodstained hands, he reached out, and plucked the frail, pallid little creature from it's nest of blankets. He bit his lip, expression softening as he examined it– her, carefully and then clutched her gently to his chest."Why– " his voice failed him; he cleared his throat and tried again. "Why is she so small?"

"As I said," the woman's tone was impatient. She must have explained once already while his thoughts were elsewhere. "She wasn't quite ready to be born yet. Fully formed, thankfully, but small. She wasn't breathing, at first. She gave us quite a scare."

Gyouten's eyes snapped open, and he turned quickly to face the medic. "She's sick?" She was taken aback by the hopeful tone. If she was ill, the academy would want nothing to do with her; she would be safe. His heart leapt, but sank again at the medic's reassuring smile.

"No, she should be fine. In fact, she should catch up with other children in height eventually, too."

He dug a sharpened canine tooth into his lip, and returned his attention to the tiny, helpless creature now staring at him with large blue eyes that he recognized as his own. The unusually thick dark hair was Yuu's... the other features, he supposed, would take longer to identify. A kind of despair crept into his melted heart. This little thing, now completely dependent on him, all he had left of his darling Yuu, his– _**their**_ little girl... was destined for violence, malevolence and death. She would meet either his fate, or Kensuke's; dead in one way or another. He didn't dare consider Junmaru's fate.

She was at ease in his arms, as though somehow, she knew him already. She knew who he was. Kotone– he wasn't sure when he'd chosen the name– needed her father to protect her from anything and everything, and there was one thing, as heartless as it was, that he could do to protect her from the future he knew awaited.

He would raise her for that day. He would love and care for her as he did everything– in the shadows. While she needed his affection to grow, he would give it, but no longer than that. Once she was old enough to learn, she would know nothing but orders and obedience. For her sake, he would abstain from the odd little instincts he hadn't known he possessed. He would be a jonin first, and a father a distant second. She would know and expect no love, no friendship, and know to do as she was told. If he could do that, perhaps the academy's cruelty would be bearable. Perhaps, with no sense of affection or attachment, when her judgement day came, she could act as neither he nor his partner had been able and save herself without hesitation.

He vowed it to himself as he returned his child to the warmth of her small bed. She would return from the academy. Perhaps not whole, perhaps not happy, but alive; and then, perhaps, he told himself, could begin to make amends, and give her the approval and care that a father should.

He told himself this, though knew all too well that by then, it would be too late.

* * *

So yeah XD; I know some of you caught on to the Kensuke thing, so... I have an alternate little backstory I thought up for Zabuza that kinda helped me keep him in character. As you can see, they overlap a bit XD; small world, I guess. Or, you know. Just a lazy author.

And of course, as you know, Gyouten's child-rearing plans go horribly wrong XD Becuase as opposed to being all 'bleh, screw you,' it's more like, 'Zomgwillyoubemyfriend?I'veneverhadafriendbefore, cliiiiiiiing' xD;;;


	14. A Chance Meeting

I was attacked by a plot bunny, and this happened.

I guess this goes with Asayuu, and before that one scene in Sutego xD; Not cannon to the fic, really, but it could be, I guess, if you want to think it is. I can't decide xD; It's late, I have to go study for a molecular genetics unit test xD;

Also, wow, it's been a while, hasn't it?

Disclaimer: Naruto belongs to Masashi Kishimoto

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It took considerable effort to run noisily. After however many years of training to perfect it, and years again to make it habit, muffling the sound of his footfalls was second nature– a decidedly Kirigakurean trait that simply wouldn't do now, and as the man wheeled around a deserted corner, he could only hope his pursuers appreciated the effort. Let them think he was a foreigner, lightning-nin, leaf ninja, _**anything **_but a native traitor who'd been rifling through their papers. Not that he'd found anything of interest. The white haired jonin glanced down at his bloodied shin, and would have sighed, if his pace permitted a wasted breath. It certainly hadn't been worth an injury.

The wind whipped icy flecks of snow off rooves and snowdrifts, snapping sails and rocking the hulls of the fishing boats as he raced along the dock. A glance over his shoulder showed a dark shape through the storm. The tracker swore under his breath, brought his pallid hands together, and drew together another form from the churning water beside him. The icewater figure continued full tilt along the water's edge as flesh and blood veered away, hurtling towards the gaping mouth of an alley.

The snow did nothing to soften the young jonin's fall as he clattered to the frigid pavement, ice scraping his palms raw as he rolled away from the street and into the shadows. Heart pounding traitorously in his chest, the jonin collapsed against the chilled brick, snow-dampened hair clinging to his face, leaving frozen smudges across his glasses as he pulled himself deeper into the unlit corridor.

A sound caught his ear that he could not explain as the howling of the wind or crashing of waves. He was sharing his hideaway with another. The crashing as the thing clambered through the abandoned junk and refuse heaped forlornly through the passageway indicated more than an alley cat, but far less than a man. The tiny sound that broke the stillness confirmed a child. "You're bleeding," the voice (hoarse neglect or abuse, but definitely a young boy's) informed him unnecessarily from its sanctuary amongst the frozen scrap.

"I've noticed," the jonin replied, and raised his snowy eyebrows when the voice grew bold enough to continue.

"You're hiding, aren't you? I'll shout. They'll find you."

A smirk pulled at the ninja's pallid lips. "I'd kill you before you drew the breath."

"You'd have to find me first," the boy challenged.

"I can hear you," the man replied evenly, drawing a thin needle from a holster strapped to his thigh. "That's more than enough." A tiny clatter of scrap metal as the thing settled itself, but no answer. "What's to be had from having me killed?" The jonin continued, his voice steady, listless. The pile of junk hissed a 'nothing,' and the white haired tracker quirked an eyebrow. "What are you after, then?"

"I want you to take me with you."

The injured mist nin sat up, turning for the first time, to face the hidden boy. "What was that?"

"I want to be a ninja," he repeated resolutely. "Take me with you."

"No," the jonin grit his teeth, and shakily forced his bloodied leg to support his weight. Using the alley wall for a humbling moment, he steadied himself, and shook his head solemnly. "You don't know what you're asking."

An icy drizzle fell between the captured snowflakes, beating down on the slushy ground, scrap and harbour with varying pounding sounds. He could hear the freezing drops bounce harshly from skin, both his own and the boy's.

"I want to be stronger," he answered finally, over the howling wind. "I don't want to scavenge, or beg, or live off of what adults are willing to spare for me. I want to be able to look after myself. I've never seen our country's shinobi freezing in the gutter. What more is there to it? Take me with you."

"You're beginning to try my patience, boy."

"I'm not afraid."

"Then come out where I can see you." There was a creaking of displaced rubbish, and the junk heap churned as the thing squirmed free of it.

Through the cold and the rain, a spectre crawled out of the darkness.

The tracker's heart caught in his throat, and he forced the icy feeling in his gut back down. The jonin clenched his fist, and forced his eyes to examine the far-too-familiar features with enough skepticism to note the strangeness of him. This was a street urchin, not a revenant.

If there was a ghost of anyone in him, it was an enemy, not a friend, he knew this all too well.

"Come," he sighed, when he found his voice again. "Follow me," and the ragged child followed after. The jonin paused at the mouth of his haven, glancing cautiously from side to side for any sign of his pursers. Seeing no sign of the enemy, he strode carefully into the empty streets. He made his way down the snowy road in search of a lit window, and did his best to ignore the wincing and pained grunts behind him as the boy was buffeted by the icy wind and rain despite his best efforts. As much as he filtered the sound through his soldier's heart, the thought of his own little one struggling similarly tugged as his reluctant heartstrings, and he took a begrudging step back, shielding the child from the wind with his sturdier frame. The boy he still couldn't quite bear to look at was unsteady on his bare feet, and he slowed his pace considerably.

He shepherded the boy towards a light and eventually pried a restaurant door open against the wind, letting the stray tumble inside. It was a small place, meant to feed passing fishermen, but it was warm, and he pushed the half-frozen thing towards a seat. He scrambled into it, shooting a look, that might have been scathing if he'd had the energy for it, in the older man's direction. The jonin strode towards the counter, failing to disguise his limp, and ordered drinks and a standard fish and rice dish from the astonished girl that appeared from the kitchen to answer the door. She clearly hadn't been expecting a shinobi, and after the frightened waitress fled back to work, he wondered if he shouldn't have left his hitai-ate and flak jacket at the table.

He stayed there, drumming his fingers against the counter, not quite ready to face the thing dripping icewater onto their table in a corner. His bit his lip and silently willed the girl to return with his sake if nothing else. It had been years since he'd needed a drink this badly, but neither his postponed mission or present company permitted getting as plastered as he desperately needed.

The sheepish civilian returned with their plates a long moment later, squeaking apologies for an imagined wait, and a pale hand removed the tray from her own. "I've got it." He assured, letting her retreat to the safety of behind the counter once again.

"Eat." he ordered, dropping the tray to the table with a clatter, and shoving a bowl of meat and rice towards the boy, sharply, before falling into his own chair and reaching for the much needed alcohol. He sat, and stared stubbornly– defiantly– at the bowl. "Go on. It's there."

He crinkled his straight nose in disgust. "I don't want anyone's pity."

"Then you're a fool," the jonin replied tersely, pushing the food further towards him, "because you're in desperate need of it."

Reluctantly, the boy reached for a set of chopsticks, and slowly brought a warm piece of fish to his mouth, revealing a set of inhuman sharp teeth. He was an unfortunate little stray: scrawny, and frail, showing a mixture of Lightning and Water country blood, but not particularly attractive by either culture's standards. He was corpse-like– A darker foreign complexion had been watered down with pallid blood, leaving him more gray than anything else, and the skin was stretched over a near-skeletal frame; dark, matted hair and darker eyes with dark circles beneath them, all a patchwork of bruises and mud.

The starved boy's resolve wavered as he swallowed the piece of fish, and he attacked the meal with desperate vigour, stopping after a few ardent mouthfuls to double over and cover his mouth to keep any to spill out a dry heave wracked his tiny frame. "You're just hungry," The man assured him dispassionately. "Keep eating. You'll feel better. Here, drink this, it's warm," and he prodded a cup of tea in the other's direction.

"Why are you doing this for me?" The boy asked suspiciously once his stomach had settled.

The pallid jonin closed his eyes, and folded his hands on the table. "I have a daughter your age," he confessed. "Perhaps I'm going soft. Do you not have any family to take you in? Or are you a runaway."

"No family here," He replied between mouthfuls. "No family anywhere."

"D'you have a name?" he asked with similar disinterest, removing his glasses and cleaning the smudges from them with cloth he'd pulled from his flak jacket.

"Do you?"

"Ah," he sighed, returning the lenses to his face. "Well then, nameless-kun, you must have some somewhere, or have had some at some point. Any ninja in your family?"

He paused and eyed the steaming cup before him pensively. "My father..." he paused, rocking the tea carefully between his tiny hands as he waited for it to reach a drinkable temperature, "My father might have been."

"You didn't know him," the tracker answered, something constricting guiltily in his chest. "Could your mother not tell you about him?"

"She didn't know him either." The knot in the blue eyed man's gut wound tighter. "Besides, I only came here a few months ago. I lived in a village north of here, in the mountains." This time, he winced visibly, enough for the boy to take note, and raise a scant, sceptical eyebrow to demand an explanation.

"I've been there," the jonin struggled to regain his composure. "Nice little place."

"What were you doing there?"

The mist ninja smiled grimly. "I killed a man. Not long after you were born, I'd imagine." He shook his head again and diverted his attention to the rain spattered window, and tried to ignore the boy in favour of the stormy docks. "What brings you all the way down here? That's quite a trip."

"Work," he replied simply, and the jonin suppressed an echoed chuckle as he brought his own less kid-friendly drink to his lips.

"How old are you? Five?"

"I'm nearly seven," nameless-kun snapped indignantly. "I'd thought the fishing boats might want me."

"No such luck?" The child shot him a scathing look and stabbed at his meal sorely. "Keep trying with the fishermen," the jonin advised.

"They say I'm too small," the boy shot back, popping a final piece of fish between his pointed teeth. "I've heard the ninja academy in Kirigakure takes boys my age. That's true, isn't it?"

The jonin sighed, and glanced listlessly back towards the contemptuous little thing. "Occasionally," he admitted. "But honestly, what would a brat from the mountains know about shinobi? Keep asking the fishermen."

"I know the Mizukage is a failure." The jonin's eyes flickered wider momentarily, but then the condescending smirk returned and the boy's scowl deepened when he was urged to continue. "We're starving. In the mountains, here, everywhere. It's just you ninja who get fed and paid."

"Mizukage sama's responsibility is the hidden village," the blue eyed jonin responded patiently. "Everywhere else is the Daimyo's problem."

"The Daimyo's a puppet." The darker boy spat back. "People talk, I hear them. The Mizukage has the country by the throat."

The mist ninja inclined his head, impassively. "I suppose you think you could do better." The boy met his eye squarely, and nodded. "Ambitious little runt, aren't you? It takes a certain kind of person to survive the academy, let alone become kage. I'd worry about that, first." The jonin rested his head against his folded hands, and suppressed another sigh. To be wasting time in post-middle-of-nowhere was bad enough, but debating politics with a seven year old was a bit much. "Impressive," he admitted, and a humourless smile tugged at his pale lips as he stood, and fished through his pockets to set the proper amount of coins on the table. "Perhaps you'll prefer the next."

The boy narrowed his eyes suspiciously, and slid out of his seat to follow. "Next?"

The jonin nodded as he started his way towards the door. "I've said too much. If you are determined to find your way to the academy–Stop, that's not for you," the would be student's hand froze where it hovered, an inch above the money on the table, and his arms folded irritably across his chest as he hastened after. "I'd suggest you wait a while. Things in the hidden village might be a bit... hectic, for a while. You see why I can't take you along." Nameless said nothing, but watched him carefully as he made his way towards the exit and stepped back out into the cold.

"Wait." The jonin paused over the threshold, hand rested against the door to keep it open against the still bitter winds. "You said you had a daughter my age," he began brazenly, "so tell me, will she be made a ninja as well? Is she 'a certain kind of person?'"

"I'm working on it," he admitted. "She isn't, not yet."

The boy smiled, smugly. "But I am?"

"Who's to say?" he answered dully, "my daughter's success is my own business. A street urchin without so much as a name is no concern of mine. Do as you like." The man glanced over his shoulder for one final gut-wrenching look at the boy he had yet to convince himself was a stranger before stepping out again into the storm, and darting homewards as quickly as his bloodied shin would allow.

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So yeah :) hope you enjoyed it~ It's been a while, I'm sorry if I'm a bit rusty xD;


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